Steele Holting on to the Holiday
by RSteele82
Summary: As requested, the continuation to Steele Holting on Christmas. Remington and Laura head to Vail on their first holiday together. What can it hold? A gift that warms Laura, a promise kept, an accident that threatens what they are building, and a deepening of the emotional and physical intimacy that they have battled against for years.
1. Chapter 1: The Slopes

Chapter 1: The Slopes

Remington shifted into third, giving the black, four-door Chevrolet Silverado pick-up a little more gas as it climbed what should be the last hill prior to their descent into Vail Village. Dropping the gear shift, his fingers brushed against Laura's hand. Despite being caught up in the view outside the passenger window, she turned her hand over automatically and laced her fingers through his own. Without thought, he lifted their joined hands and pressed his lips just below her knuckles, drawing her eyes away from the view briefly as she bestowed a warm smile on him. He gave her hand a squeeze in response then lay their hands back on the seat between them.

 _I can't believe we've finally done it. After years of trying, we are on holiday together,_ he thought to himself with a smile.

When he glanced into the rear view mirror to check for traffic behind, he caught Monroe's contemplative gaze upon him. He chose to ignore it for the moment.

"First time in Vail, Jocelyn?" he asked the woman seated next to Monroe in the backseat of the truck.

"Yes. I generally ski closer to home - Bear Mountain, Squaw Valley, Badger Pass, Tahoe. Although I did enjoy a delightful ski holiday in St. Moritz while on a shoot," she replied, drawing another grin from Remington. Jocelyn, a model by trade, stood at 5'11" tall, with raven hair that flowed down her back, honey colored skin and large, green, almond shaped eyes. A lifetime ago, Remington would have been tempted to use his considerable charms to lure her into a brief assignation... well, if she hadn't already been involved with Monroe, of course.

"I've enjoyed schussing the slopes of St. Moritz myself a few times. I was particularly fond of the more vigorous slopes at Corvatsch and Diavolezza."

"Some of the slopes in those areas can be rather...daunting."

"Yes, and therein lies the pleasure. There's nothing I appreciate more than a challenge," he replied, giving Laura's hand a squeeze.

She laughed, then turned sideways in her seat, so she could join in the conversation. The move required her to let go of Remington's hand, but as soon as she had repositioned herself laid the fingers of his other hand against his open palm and stroked it lightly.

"And you, Monroe?" she asked. "Do you have extensive ski experience as well?"

"I've indulged a time or three, but fear I'm a mere novice compared to these two. Yourself?"

"Junior downhill champion when I was ten," she laughed softly, "But I haven't had much time in recent years to keep my skills honed. Looks like you and I may be keeping each other company on the green and blue slopes while Mr. Steele and Jocelyn gratify their need for adrenaline on the black diamond courses."

"At long last, an opportunity for me to charm your affections away from my friend here. I look forward to it."

Monroe's loud laugh echoed through the car in response to the glare he received from Remington and the playful smack against his arm by Jocelyn. Laura's laughter chimed in, even as she ran her hand along Remington's arm, then joined her hand with his once more. Remington grinned at her, then pursed his lips quickly, sending her a touchless kiss.

Monroe furrowed his brow thoughtfully upon seeing this exchange, and reminded himself once more that he and his old friend needed to have a little chat at some point during the trip.

"Is that... Is that a covered bridge ahead?" Laura asked, her voice infused with enthusiasm at the prospect.

"Mmmmm," Remington acknowledged wordlessly, "Indicates our arrival at Vail Village."

"Absolutely charming," Jocelyn murmured from the back seat.

"Where are we staying?" Laura asked. "You never said."

"Jack Gallen has a place on the western side along Beaver Creek. Offered us use of it anytime we wanted, in appreciation for us saving his life and all."

"Gallen? That case was nearly two years ago. You're still in touch with him?"

"To a point. Chris and Angel have touched base here and there. I've spent a little time with them."

"How didn't I know this?" He shrugged in response. "How many other former clients have you 'touched base' with?"

"A few here and there."

"Such as?"

"Perhaps a few more than a few," he answered, in an attempt to put off her queries, as the truck thumped, thumped, thumped over the slats of the covered bridge.

"Seems you're in the frying pan, Mick," Monroe laughed from behind him.

"I shouldn't see why," Remington answered him, then stole a glance at Laura, who was currently giving him a sidelong glance.

Laura suddenly sat up straight, her face aglow with wonderment. Without thought, she reached out and placed her hand on Remington's arm.

"It's like an old village nestled in the Swiss Mountains," she said in awe. "And look, it's still decorated for Christmas!"

"I should think so, given today is only the day after," he laughed, removing her hand from his arm, and holding it in his own once more.

"We're not finished with this conversation, you know."

"Of course not."

"We'll talk about it after we settle in."

"Of course we will."

"I want to enjoy this right now."

"It is lovely, isn't it?" Jocelyn asked, staring out her window as the town slowly moved past.

"May I suggest that we continue on to Beaver Creek, get ourselves settled at the house then return for a late lunch? I've reservations for the four of us this evening for nine at the Swiss Chalet, but it's quite a long time between now and dinner."

"I think that's a splendid idea, Mick," Monroe chimed in.

"Laura?"

"I could eat."

"Jocelyn?

"I'm on vacation, I don't have a shoot in the next few weeks. I say, let's eat."

"So, we're all in agreement," he grinned. "I think you'll enjoy the house, based on what I've heard about it."

"Look, Mr. Steele, they have a skating rink," Laura enthused, straining her neck to look past him.

"So, I see," his smiling widening. It was seldom that Laura let down her walls long enough to relax into life and focus on the simple pleasures with such enthusiasm. He found it absolutely charming, and he wanted nothing more than to stop the truck and kiss her soundly.

"I haven't been ice skating since college," she commented wistfully.

"Then we'll have to make time while we're here so that you can, won't we?"

"I'd like that."

The occupants of the car fell quiet, admiring the town as they continued to drive slowly through. Several minutes later they emerged on the other side, once more navigating through a tree lined, two lane highway climbing ever upwards. Laura found herself thankful that Remington was driving, masterfully handling the large pick-up, despite the wet roads and inclines. While she did the vast majority of the driving in LA, she was quite use to the flat, congested roadways there. The idea of navigating these roads made her slightly nervous.

Fifteen minutes out of town, Remington steered the vehicle onto a private driveway on the right side of the road. When they reached a wrought iron security gate, he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, then punched in a four digit code into the security box located there. The gates swung upon, then closed behind them after the truck had passed through. A quarter mile down the road, Remington once more found himself smiling at the pleased gasp emitted by Laura.

 _"This_ is the Gallen's vacation home?"

"Mmm hmmmm," was his only reply.

The two-story home resembled an Alipine ski lodge with its log exterior, peaked roof tops, and large ceiling to floor windows. The house featured a four car garage, and a porch that wrapped around three sides of the exterior. The sides and front of the house was nestled among tall pines, offering privacy, and even from where they now sat in the truck, it was apparent that the rear of house looked over the edge of the mountain upon which it set.

Opening the doors to the truck, all four piled out. Remington untethered the tarp covering their luggage in the bed of the truck, and began pulling out suitcases, while Monroe quickly joined in the effort as Laura and Jocelyn grabbed overnight bags and began slinging them over their shoulders. Grappling two suitcases in each hand, the men led the way up the stone steps to the front door. Dropping the suitcases he'd been juggling, Remington searched his pockets, located the key, then swung the front door open, indicating Laura and Jocelyn should enter before the men.

"Perhaps you and I should take the luggage to our rooms, while the ladies look around?" Remington suggested to Monroe. "Jack insisted that Laura and I use the master here on the first level. There are three more suites upstairs, replete with their own bathrooms and hot tubs on the balconies. Feel free to choose whichever you feel suits best. Come get Laura and I when the two of you are ready to leave."

"That I'll do. I must say, Mick, you have some friends in high places these days, based on the look of this place."

"It's a beautiful home," Remington concurred, opting not to acknowledge the remainder of Monroe's comment. It was only by luck of the draw that they'd been hired by Gallen, and it was through the joint work of he and Laura that Gallen counted them among his allies, thus offering up his home for their retreat.

"Laura," Remington called to her where she stood in front of the wall-to-wall windows that looked out over the mountainside, down into Vail Village, "Our room's at the back, just over there. Come join me when you've finished admiring the view. The sooner we unpack, the sooner we can return to town for lunch."

"I'm coming," she called back to him, before briefly returning her gaze to the view out the back of the house. She wondered briefly about the five-foot high concrete wall to the left side, then dismissing it turned her attention back to the right side of the house, where the lawn gently sloped down to the bed of the river far below.

"It's perfect," she breathed, a smile lighting her face. With a nod of her head, she turned on her heel and walked to the back of the house where Remington had headed, traveling past a billiards room, the kitchen, and crossing through a private living room, before finding the door to the bedroom. She halted in the doorway and looked around the room, wide-eyed.

"Wow," she said aloud, unable to come up with another word to describe the room in front of her.

"Astounding, isn't it?" Remington answered from inside the closet where he was hanging his clothes. "I understand now why Jack insisted we take this room."

The large room featured vaulted, beamed ceilings, and the wall facing the back of the house was a solid bank of floor-to-ceiling windows, broken up only by a massive fireplace made of hand laid river rock that extended to the ceiling. The king-size bed faced the window while a sitting area had been created on the far side of the room. To the right, there was a large master bathroom replete with a whirlpool tub, shower, and double vanity, all made of solid marble. Adjoining the bathroom was a large walk in closet, outfitted with custom cabinets. Wandering over to the bank of windows, Laura found her answer to the curious stone wall outside the living room. Ensconced in absolute privacy among three similar walls was a small, pool, clearly heated as the steam mingled into the cold air above with a river rock fire place built in into the wall buffering one side of the pool where it connected to a large hot tub.

Turning away from the view, she moved to her luggage laying on the bed. She and Remington continued to unpack in companionable silence. Drawers were filled, clothes hung, shoes placed in racks, and toothbrushes, shampoos, razors and creams stashed in the bathroom. There was a fluid rhythm to their actions born from sharing lodging across the years, and both acknowledged to themselves the newly added nuance of domesticity that reverberated under the surface, which was concurrently comforting and disquieting.

Task complete, they wordlessly left the room to explore the home which would be theirs, as well as Monroe and Jocelyn's, in the days ahead. They toured a fully stocked library, where Laura fingered the bindings of several first editions with reverence, drawing a laugh from Remington, "They'll be no time for that this trip, Miss Holt," another laugh following her look of dismay. They strolled through the billiards room, finding a door in the rear of the room that led into a screening room, where Remington fingered the titles in a cabinet with longing.

"Imagine, Laura. A private screening of Casablanca," he hinted hopefully.

"I'm sure we can find time," she laughed, then squealed with delight when he strode quickly across the room and lifted her into a tight hug, leaving her feet dangling from the ground.

"Put me down," she laughed again, pushing at his shoulders until he dropped her to her feet once more. "Onwards with the tour Mr. Steele?"

"Lead the way, Miss Holt."

They bisected the living room and headed into the kitchen, where Remington was transfixed by the accoutrements. Fingering the copper cookware that hung from an overhead rack, Remington rummaged through cabinets, humming all the while.

"I suspect we'll be eating in while we're here?" Laura teased.

"At least once," he confirmed with a grin.

Grabbing her hand, he led her over to the couch where they had slung their coats on arrival and helped her on with hers. Lifting her hair from under the collar he touched his lips against her nape, before releasing her hair and pulling on his own. Threading his fingers through hers he led her to the sliding doors then out on the back deck. Wrapping her in his embrace, he pulled her close. Laura relaxed into his body, head lying against his shoulder, and ran her hands over the length of his arms until they rested on top of his. They stood looking down into the valley at Vail Village.

"I bet it's beautiful, lit up at night," she commented quietly, not wanting to disturb the mood that had enveloped them.

"Mmmm," he agreed, then releasing her stepped between the deck and Laura, leaning against it, before taking her by the hips and pulling her to stand between his legs.

She looped her arms around his neck, her eyes on his, her voice sultry when she asked, "Something on your mind, Mr. Steele?"

He lowered his head to hers, his lips brushing against hers several times before settling and exploring. She felt his contented hum when her fingers began to play with the hair at the base of his neck, his hand moving to the back of her neck to reciprocate. He pulled back, breaking the kiss, but unable to deny her when her hand pressed on the back of his neck, he resumed his attentions on her mouth. He nibbled her lower lip playfully for several moments, then at her murmur of pleasure flicked his tongue against her upper lip, pulling her tighter against himself as she opened willingly to him. Their tongues tasted, tangled, played, before he once again ended the interplay, to run his lips along her neck. Laura arched her neck back willingly, allowing him the access he craved, then gasped when his lips gave a gentle tug on the lobe of her ear. He felt a shiver run through her, and he leaned back to consider her, before turning his attentions to the other side of her neck.

"Cold?" he whispered in question, as his lips continued to graze, downwards towards her collarbone.

"A little. I don't think my coat is made for Colorado winters," she answered breathlessly.

His fingers moved aside the neck of her sweater to allow him more freedom of contact, when his eyes caught site of the bruise he'd left upon her there the night before. Running his thumb over it, he felt a moment of remorse, knowing that she'd likely be trying to conceal it throughout the trip.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, before pressing his lips against the area.

"You should be," she teased. "I haven't had a hickey since I was sixteen."

"I assure you, it wasn't intentional," he told her lifting his head to look at her.

"Hmmm, I know. Might have been more fun if it had been," she smirked at him.

"Well in that case," he semi-leered at her, then brushed her sweater off her shoulder on the opposite side, and began lowering his head.

"Oh, no you don't," she laughed, while placing her hand over his mouth to prevent him from continuing. "Besides, it's my turn."

"Oh?" he raised a brow.

"Most definitely."

Dipping her head under his chin, to kiss and nip her way down his neck, she was encouraged to be a little more daring when he tilted his head to the side to give her more access while one hand got lost in her hair and the other rubbed over her back. Darting her tongue out briefly to taste him, where neck met shoulder, she smiled against his skin at his quick intake of breath.

"I love the way you taste," she whispered against his ear, before pulling the lobe into her mouth. She felt his body jerk against her own, in response to both her words and action.

"Do you now?" he asked on shortened breath.

"Mmmmm. You taste, sweet, salty, spicy all at the same time. It could be addicting," she mumbled, lips pressed against his skin, still traveling.

"Could it now?" he asked, pulling back from her and tilting his head down so he could see her face.

She smiled up at him in response to the boyish grin on his face.

"Yes, perhaps too easily."

"Ahh, Laura, the things you say sometimes."

Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close to him, dropping his chin down to lay on top of her head when her arms went willingly around his back, holding him tight. They stood, gently swaying in one another's arms for several minutes.

Monroe paused in the doorway, watching the interaction of the couple once more, before clearing his throat subtly to announce his presence. Remington lifted his head, his eyes meeting Monroe's, as Laura turned in Remington's arms, only to lean back into him. Remington dropped a kiss on top of her head, before addressing Monroe.

"All unpacked?"

"We are," he answered, slinging his arm around Jocelyn's waist as she joined him in the doorway.

"Find everything to your liking?"

"The room is magnificent, Mick. Far more than either of us were expecting," Monroe acknowledged while Jocelyn nodded her agreement next to him.

"The views are stunning, and I cannot wait to indulge in that hot tub later this evening," she enthused.

"Glad to hear. Shall we head to town for a bite to eat?"

* * *

Arriving back in town fifteen minutes later, a discussion on the way to town had resulted in Remington parking the truck street-side in front of Blue Moose Pizza. An hour later the two couples departed, having had their fill on Greek salad and the one of the house specialties, the spring pizza, layered with artichoke hearts, sun dried tomatoes, Roma tomatoes, basil, garlic and oregano.

"We should be able to get in a couple of quick runs before dusk," Remington told Laura, as he took her gloved hand in his own.

"If it's okay with you, I'd rather just get an early start in the morning. The trails will be tracked out by now, and according to the weather statements, they are expecting fresh powder to start falling around eight tonight."

"I agree with Laura, if it's any matter," Jocelyn chimed in from behind.

"Seems the ladies have made up their minds, Mick," Monroe commented with a smile.

"Seems so. Any suggestions on how we might spend the afternoon then ladies?"

"I'd be content to explore the village and do a little shopping, window or otherwise," Jocelyn suggested.

Laura tapped her lip briefly, then smiled. Jocelyn's suggestion would work perfectly for the plan she'd hatched earlier in the afternoon.

"I'd like that," Laura agreed, ignoring the surprised look by her partner who was well-aware of her dislike of shopping.

The two couples whiled away the afternoon enjoying the charm of the town. Laura was dazzled by the Christmas tree near the center of village, that stood a good 20 feet tall. Remington smiled down at her adoringly as she sighed her wish that it were evening so they could all enjoy the lights. Eventually, the men and ladies paired off, as Remington claimed there was a tailor's shop he'd like to peruse, while Laura asserted she wanted to find a couple of small trinkets to take back home to her niece and nephew.

As soon as Monroe and Remington cleared the corner, Laura ducked into a toy store, quaintly called "Toy Store", dragging Jocelyn along behind her.

"I never realized a toy store held such appeal," Jocelyn laughed.

"Normally it wouldn't but I don't want Mr. Steele tracking me down before I've bought what I need," Laura laughed along with Jocelyn, as they made their way to the sales counter. Thankfully, the store was relatively empty on the day after Christmas.

"Why is that? Afraid you'd overspend on your nieces and nephew?"

"If you knew Mr. Steele, you'd know that there is no such thing as overspending to him," Laura giggled with mirth at the thought. "No, this is a surprise for him."

"You're buying a toy for him? Isn't that a bit odd?"

"Hmmmmm. More like fulfilling a childhood wish," she answered cryptically.

"I see." Jocelyn smiled. "May I ask you something?"

"Sure," Laura replied, glancing at the door, then tapping her foot impatiently, waiting for the person in front of her to complete their checkout.

"You and Mick are involved, yes?"

"Yes," Laura answered, distracted, looking at the door again, then tapping her foot harder.

"Then why do you always refer to him as 'Mr. Steele'?"

The question threw Laura off-guard, and she forgot her impatience for a moment, in order to mentally browbeat herself. Of course, the other woman would have noticed. She should have considered that before they ever left out on the trip and planned accordingly. She briefly closed her eyes, her nimble mind working quickly.

"Habit, I suppose. Remington and I work long hours together, and we agreed a long time ago that we would keep business and personal separate. Given the number of hours we clock, I use 'Mr. Steele' far more often during the course of the day, just as he does 'Miss Holt.'"

"Remington," Jocelyn pondered. "Why does Monroe call him Mick then?"

"I'm afraid even I don't have an answer for that," Laura laughed. "That seems to be a question for Monroe."

Laura exhaled deeply, relieved when the customer in front of her finally departed. When the clerk turned his attention to her, Laura quickly explained the purchase she needed to make. With a little incentive in the form of a few bills slipped into a discrete palm, the clerk guaranteed delivery Sunday morning, a time when Laura felt fairly certain she would be able to convince Remington to linger a little while over breakfast on their last day in Vail. Laura scribbled out the security code to the gate on the slip of paper provided to her, then turned back to the interior of the store.

 _Quick, what should I pick up for the kids?_

Jocelyn, God bless her, made a few suggestions and after snatching those items from various shelves Laura returned to the line. After a fair amount of waiting, she was once again checked out, and she and Jocelyn stepped back outside onto Bridge Street, just in time to see Remington and Monroe heading in the direction. Both men had made purchases of their own, Remington carrying a garment bag along with mid-sized bag, while Monroe carried several smaller ones.

"Let me guess... new suit?" Laura asked Remington, lifting her cheek to him for a quick kiss, as she simultaneously nodded at the garment bag in his hand.

"Uh, coat, actually," he answered with a smile. "Find what you were looking for?"

"I think they'll enjoy them, although it just occurred to me it was rather silly buying them toys the day after Christmas."

"I'm sure they'll love you for it. You'll be their favorite aunt before you know it." Wrapping his arm around her waist as they began walking towards the truck, he gave her side a squeeze.

"I'm their only aunt," she commented dryly.

"See, you'll have the spot all sewn up!" He laughed as she playfully punched him in the arm, then swung her around gave her a quick kiss.

Grabbing her hand, they continued their walk back to the truck, ready to head back to the house for a little relaxation before dinner.

* * *

Laura emerged from bathroom draped in a strapless dress. The red, beaded silk was embroidered with a delicate floral design of silver thread. The floor length gown featured a split extending from the hem to just above the knee, offering a glimpse of her stocking clad legs she was certain her Mr. Steele would appreciate. She'd pulled back the front of her hair, leaving her long bangs to frame one side of her face and the back of her hanging down, knowing full well how much he enjoyed running his fingers through her hair. She made no attempt to deny it to herself: she had dressed with him in mind this evening.

She turned towards the closet when she heard Remington's low-pitched whistle of approval. With a hand signal, he indicated she should spin around, which she did slowly, a smile lighting her face. Pulling a red tie from the hanger in the closet, he walked towards her while knotting it and pulling it tight, freeing his hands to reach for hips when he neared her.

"You're stunning." His lips pressed against her cheek. A lone finger skimmed the side of her jaw as he watched her skin flush at his compliment.

"And you, Mr. Steele are exceptionally handsome this evening." She reached out and smoothed the shoulders and sleeves of his black pinstriped suit, before running her hands down the lapels.

A finger grazed the skin of her collarbone. She'd worked some magic with her foundation and concealer, hiding the bruise, he noted. His hands grasped either side of her face, thumbs caressing her cheeks, and gently lay his lips over her own. She stumbled, surprised by the movement, the tenderness, grasping his sides to stay afoot. With a kiss against the side of her neck, he moved away.

 _My God, he is in top form tonight_ , she thought to herself, resisting the urge to fan her face.

Laura wandered to the dresser, then stood threading small drop diamond earrings through her ears. Rustling through her small jewelry case that she brought along travels, she took out a necklace and clasped it around her neck while watching Remington in the mirror with appreciation.

 _When he walked in the office four years ago I thought I'd never seen a man more beautiful than him,_ she thought to herself. With his dark hair, laser-sharp blue eyes, his tall, slim frame, the charm, the near courtliness in his mannerisms. _I was wrong. The way he has filled out over the years: the wider girth to his shoulders and chest; the sharpened angles of his face; the fine lines around his eyes, on his forehead; the calm that has settled around him; the gentleness he used to try to conceal. He's like a fine wine that only gets better with age._

She fairly blushed when she returned from her reverie and found him watching her watch him in the mirror, a knowing, pleased smile lighting his eyes. She averted her eyes for a moment, somewhat embarrassed, then in a moment befitting the old Laura, lifted her chin and stared boldly at him, her eyes in the mirror giving his reflection a thorough once over. She smirked as she watched his smile falter in surprise.

 _If that surprised you, you really won't know what hit you next,_ she thought to herself, cocking an eyebrow inwardly.

Spinning on her heel, she walked with intent towards him as he tried to decide what had gotten into her. Before he could formulate an answer, she pressed herself against him, and with a hand pulled his head down to hers, her lips connecting purposefully with his. A kiss, a nip, a flick of a tongue, his mouth willingly allowing her entrance. As she teased and enticed with her lips, her teeth, her tongue, he responded, giving tit-for-tat, as long, masculine fingers glided up and down the column of her neck. Joint, soft murmurs of bliss were exchanged, before their lips parted and they settled into one another's embrace.

 _My God, if this is even a taste of what it will be like between us when we finally make love, she will be my match in every way, as I have long suspected._ He brushed his lips across the top of her head, pulling her tighter to him, his breath still short from the response her impulsivity had stirred.

"By no means to look a gift horse in the mouth, Laura, but what did I do to earn that enchanting interlude? Whatever it may be, I'll have to make a point of repeating it often."

Her head lifted, a beatific smile accompanied by a self-satisfied gleam in her eyes. "I'm not sure I should say. It could go to your head."

"Could it now? Should I promise that it won't, would you share?"

She pretended to give the matter grave consideration. "Well, I _suppose_ ," she answered, drawing out the final world, "if you promised."

"You have my solemn oath, Miss Holt," he responded with all the gravity he could force into his words, made rather difficult as a single finger belonging to the woman in his arms, traced abstractedly across his chest.

"I believe, in my head, that I was likening you to a fine wine." Her fingers nimbly released shirt studs allowing a hand to slip unfettered under the cloth, fairly smirking as his breath hitched and body twitched in response.

 _Ahh, Miss Holt, two can play at this game._ Lowering his mouth to her shoulder, he alternated between kissing and suckling the smattering of freckles that sprinkled her bare shoulders. "Oh?"

"Yes. You…ummm…Oh," her thoughts scrambled as his teeth nipped her skin gently. He laughed quietly, enjoying her inability to focus on her words. "Mmmm…have only gotten…" she stumbled over a breath "finer..." her hand settled in his hair, urging him closer "with age."

Her hands moved to undo a tie, to open a collar, to tug a shirt out from under belted pants, so that lips could explore the skin of broad shoulders. His head lifted from her shoulder, pure pleasure shimmering through his body at her touch, at her words.

 _Thought you had the upper hand there for a minute, didn't you?_ A finger slipped under the low neckline of her dress to feather across her skin, causing goosebumps to rise across her skin. _Oh, my._

Turning his head so his lips lay next to her ear, his warm breath sending delicious tingles down her spine as intended, he whispered, "Whatever you do, wherever you go...I want to be with you...anytime, anywhere." Laura's stilled in his arms. " _Guys and Dolls_ , Frank Sinatra, Jean Simmons, Marlon Brando, Goldwyn Productions, 1955. Kiss me, Laura."

She met him half-way, his lips settling over hers to caress, to explore, before a touch of his tongue to her lips indicated a desire to taste her more fully. Gentle strokes were met with her hums of pleasure, her hands roaming the bare skin of his back. His body jolted as her fingers brushed over the bare skin above his belt. His lips left hers, as his hands reached to gently frame her face, waited for their eyes to meet.

"I need you, Laura. I need to know you, all of you," his voice was quiet, earnest, his eyes holding hers, hoping she would understand the true meaning of his words.

Her hand cupped his jaw, her thumb brushing across his chin. "I…"

"Mick! Are you and Laura nearly ready? We'll be late for our reservations shortly, mes ami," Monroe called from the living room.

Both heads turned to towards the door of the room as they were roused from the moment which had cast a spell around them. Turning their heads back to one another, their eyes caught, then they laughed.

"Seems were are destined to always be interrupted at the most inopportune times," he quipped, drawing a smile from her, before calling back, "We'll be there in two shakes, mate."

Leaning down he pressed his lips against her forehead, holding them there for a long moment, before taking a step back. "Shall we, Miss Holt?"

"I suppose we must," she said, disappointment lacing her words, surprising him pleasantly once more. "Let me just get my coat. You, Mr. Steele," she grinned impishly at him, "Seem to have lost your shirt. You may want to rectify that."

A hand reached out and held her arm as she stepped away, then turned her back around. Her eyes opened wide as he gave her a quick, hard kiss, before releasing her once more. Her teeth gently bit down on her lower lip, as a smile pulled at the corner of her lips, before she turned to retrieve her coat from the end of the bed. She watched him with unabashed enjoyment as he refastened his shirt studs, tucked in his shirt then finally retied his tie. His eyes darkened with desire at her open admiration.

He mentally shook himself, breaking free of her beguiling stare, then approached her until he stood a mere couple inches behind her. Reaching up, he nudged her coat off her shoulders, then tugged first one sleeve, then the other, before divesting her of it.

"We're never going to get out the door at this rate," she laughed, turning to face him.

"This will just take a moment."

She watched as he walked to the closet then returned with the garment bag he had been carrying in the village earlier. She raised a brow, mimicking the gesture she had seen him do a thousand times, and regarded him quizzically,

"Our felonious Santas kept me from picking up your gift on Christmas Eve," he explained, as he unzipped the garment bag, "but perhaps that was fortuitous after our conversation this morning. Turn around."

She glanced at him questioningly, but did as he asked.

"May I have an arm, Miss Holt?" He could feel her frowning, as she somewhat reluctantly held out at an arm. Inching it into the sleeve, he smiled as heard her intake of breath. "And the other?" he laughed as he held the coat, while waiting on her.

When she extended her other arm, he threaded the sleeve over it, before lifting coat onto her shoulders. Lifting her heavy hair out from under then over the collar, he was unable to resist, and pressed his lips against the side of her neck, before stepping back.

He grew nervous as her back remained to him, while her hand rubbed against the sleeve of the coat. The gleam in her eye betrayed her words when she finally turned around.

"It's too much."

"A beautiful woman should own at least one fur." He shoved his hands in his pocket and began unknowingly shuffling on his feet, as he worried he had somehow overstepped a boundary he had not been aware existed. He stood there for several excruciatingly long moments before his face broke out in a relieved, boyish grin, as she lifted her face to look at him, a smile of delight lighting it.

"It's stunning. What is it?" She rubbed her hand up and down the soft, snow white sleeve of the full length coat.

"White fox. I assure you, it will keep you very warm."

 _Just thinking about this moment will keep me warm. Did I say he was in top form tonight? No, this is extraordinary form._

"Thank you." Her words of appreciation were as soft as the kiss she placed on his cheek. "Dinner Mr. Steele?" she asked, handing him his cashmere coat from where it lay at the end of their bed.

"Lead the way, Miss Holt." After tying the sash around his coat, he lay his hand on the small of her back and followed her out to the living room where they greeted Monroe and Jocelyn before leaving for the restaurant.

* * *

Dinner at the Swiss Chalet had been a festive and sumptuous affair so far that evening. Both couples agreed to leave the ordering up to Remington, the veritable gourmet of the group and once again his choices had proven impeccable. Caprese Salat was followed by a piquant main course of Zuricher Geschnetzelte accompanied by Prunotto Cannubi Riserva, a rich red wine with a fantastic nose. Conversation at the table was lively as the couples exchanged ski war stories of days gone past, with the exchange naturally segue-waying to past holidays, both good and bad, peppered with frequent laughter.

As their waiter unobtrusively cleared their dinner plates from the table in preparation for dessert, Remington laid his hand over Laura's, then with a subtle flick of his eyes towards the dance floor and a wag of his eyebrows, silently suggested they sojourn to the dance floor. A sedate smile graced her lips, leading him to stand and pull back her chair before taking her hand and leading her to its center. They folded naturally into one another's embrace, allowing the music to set their pace. Not to be outdone, Monroe rose and offering a hand to Jocelyn, accompanied by a graceful bow, led her to the floor as well.

Laura tipped her head back, giving Remington's arms a small squeeze as she did so.

"I like him…Monroe. Unless you'd told me I would never have guessed that he…"

"Lived on the shady side of the street, as once did I?" he finished her statement with a question and a raised brow.

"Yes, well, but I didn't mean.. I mean, I didn't mean to imply…" A flush climbed over her cheeks, accompanied by a quiet sigh of frustration. _Damn, why do I constantly feel the need to throw his past back at him? Why can't I just enjoy that he is here, with me, at least for now?_ Bright blue eyes perused her face, noting the flush born of discomfort.

"Relax, Laura." The arm around her waist squeezed quickly, before his hand began running soothingly up and down her back. His movements drew Laura to lean back again, then finding a warm smile looking down at her, she settled herself more closely in his arms, laying her head upon his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I don't know why I feel the need to constantly point out your past."

"You wouldn't be Laura Holt if you didn't," he laughed warmly.

"I suppose I wouldn't." Another laugh, this one more quiet. She angled her head back once more, pulling a little more distance between their swaying bodies. "How long has Monroe been out of the life? What made him decide to leave it behind?"

"You also wouldn't be Laura Holt if you weren't the most damnably curious woman I have ever known," he observed. "What's say we come to an agreement."

"What kind of an agreement?" she asked, brows furrowed slightly. _I'm only so curious because you always avoid talking about the times before we met. Have you any idea what thoughts go through my mind? How many enemies do you have out there, worse, how many former allies, waiting, lurking to take you away from me?_

"We agree to simply enjoy this evening. Then tonight, when we get back to the house, I will answer any questions you have about Monroe, so we can put that agile mind of yours to rest. Eh?"

Laura mulled the request over in her mind. "Anything?"

"Within reason." He exhaled deeply, growing frustrated. _Bloody hell. The woman is like a bull dog terrier, clamping her teeth around something, refusing to let go. Why can't she simply enjoy the moment? Enjoy us, here, together? Continue to build on the moment back at the house?_

"Laura, let's just enjoy this time together. Can we do that?" The words came out unbidden, unplanned, some part of him deciding to give voice to his thoughts without consent. He stiffened subtly as he recognized his request, the slight pique in his voice, could well rouse his irascible partner's temper.

Laura felt his body tense against her. To someone else, the slight change would have been unnoticeable. She, however, was not someone else, and could sense his change of moods in a way no one else could. She silently lambasted herself for putting a crack in the shell of quiet intimacy that had enclosed itself around them since their plane touched down that morning. _Give it a rest, Holt. At least for this weekend, stop putting the walls between you and him. Let yourself just fall into the moment for a change._

She took a step closer to him, closing the physical gap that had been created, then lying her head back on his shoulder, gave his arm a nearly imperceptible squeeze, closing he emotional fissure as well.

"Yes, we can do that."

Her soft reply was an instant balm to his roughened nerves. She felt his body relax fully into hers, moments before she felt his cheek rub against the top of her head.

"Thank you."

"Believe me, it's my pleasure."

They danced silently for several minutes, allowing themselves to sink back into the contentment of being in one another's arms. The delicate strains of Bing Crosby's _A Kiss_ _to Build a Dream On_ , wafted through the air. They lost themselves in the words of the romantic words crooned by Crosby:

 _"Give me a kiss to build on and my imagination will thrive upon that kiss_  
 _Sweetheart I ask no more than this, a kiss to build a dream on._

 _Give me a kiss before you leave me and my_  
 _Imagination will feed my hungry heart_  
 _Leave me one thing before we part, a kiss to build a dream on."_

Laura lifted her head from Remington's shoulder to find blue eyes swimming with tenderness looking down upon her, leaving her slightly breathless. He bent down until his lips were close to her ear, his breath, when he spoke, caressing it.

"Give me a kiss to build a dream on, Laura," he murmured, before lifting his head to look down at her once more.

Her head tilted back while her fingers brushed against the short hair at the back of his neck, before faintly pressing against his nape in answer to his request. His lips barely touched hers, then left, only to return again to brush against hers again. As the Crosby's warm tenor wafted through the air, they lost themselves in only one another and the kisses they exchanged.

 _"Give me your lips for just a moment and my_  
 _Imagination will make that moment live_  
 _Give me what you alone can give, a kiss to build a dream on."_

Across the room, in Monroe's arms, Jocelyn sighed deeply, her eyes watching Laura and Remington as they danced. Monroe glanced down at the woman, seeing that her attention was held elsewhere.

"Is something amiss, cheri?" he queried.

His question roused Jocelyn from her thoughts to focus on him.

"No, not at all."

"You seemed distracted for a moment."

"Captivated might be a better word."

"By?"

"Laura and Mick."

With a couple of fluid movements of his feet, Monroe turned the couple around a hundred and eighty degrees. He settled in to observe his old friend and the woman in his arms thoroughly. Laura's arm was draped over Remington's shoulder, her hand playing with the hair at the back of his neck, Remington's hand clasping her other hand in his own, both arms drawn tight against their bodies, while his free arm was wrapped around her waist holding her body snuggly against his own. The couple was oblivious to anyone else in the room, lost in the moment and the brief yet meaningful kisses they shared often.

Monroe's brow, as it had many times in the past, furrowed with concern. He remembered, all too well, the Spring prior when Mick had called to ask for his assistance. Monroe had sent several of his men over to Mick's apartment post haste, to help the man pack all his belongings. Within the hour, the apartment had been cleared out. Mick had stopped by Monroe's apartment, very briefly, to bid him adieu, to thank him for storing his possessions. The man that had stood before Monroe had been…tortured…was the only word that would come to Monroe's mind at the time. He neither shared what had brought him to such a state nor where he was going or why. Yet, Monroe had known instinctively that Mick was not simply moving on to the next adventure but instead was on the run. From what, Monroe had no idea, and he never asked.

Three months ago when Mick had returned to LA, Monroe began to realize what exactly had sent his friend on the run from the life he had clearly not only embraced but relished. He still did not know the why, and this left him concerned. Never before he had seen Mick in the state he'd been that night last spring, not even in the brief couple of days after Anna's death when Mick had joined him in Barbados for a respite. This woman, as enjoyable as Monroe found her, had set Mick's life on its head, and he feared what it would do to his friend should it happen again.

"Yes, they do cut quite the dashing rug, don't they?" he asked Jocelyn now.

"That's not what I mean, and you know it," she laughingly replied.

"I know, and find myself wondering if they do," he responded cryptically before turning her in his arms once more. "Now, Cheri, let's create a little magic of our own."

Across the dance floor, as Remington's lips touched hers once more, Laura's mind tried to shake loose the intimacy that had enveloped them. It reminded her too much of a night not long ago in San Francisco, a night that had, in part, led to her hasty, fear driven decision to end them again. Only this time, he hadn't stayed and waited her out. Instead he'd finally left, taking off for parts unknown, tearing apart her carefully crafted world in the process. If she knew one thing about her life with absolute certainty, it was that she could not go through that again…ever.

Remington was oblivious to the thoughts running through her mind, as she purposefully kept her body pliant in his arms. She was on the verge of pushing him away, returning to their table, when his words earlier in the evening crept in from the recesses of her mind.

* * *

 _ **Whatever you do, wherever you go...I want to be with you...anytime, anywhere.**_

 _ **I need you, Laura. I need to know you, all of you.**_

* * *

It was his words he'd spoken to her last September in a hotel room in London, that settled her rampaging fears.

* * *

 _ **When you showed up here in London, I'd hoped that you'd realized what I had: that our fears of giving ourselves over to each other were meaningless compared to what it was like to be without one another. We're good apart, but we are magnificent when we are together. And when we are apart, we're left with an aching need to be with one another.**_

* * *

Golden brown eyes met cerulean blue, soft smiles were exchanged, fingers moved from nape to hair, a palm of a hand flattened and urged a head downwards, and lips merged once more.

 _Be bold, Laura. Take a chance, stop playing it so safe. You may not be ready, yet…most definitely yet… for everything, but you are ready for, need, so much more. So does he._

Decision made, she pushed herself up on her toes to kiss him again, before wrapping both her arms around his back, holding him close. She felt tension leave his body, surprising her, as she knew it was in response to her own indecision which she thought she had hidden so well.

Remington, eyes closed, dropped his forehead onto her shoulder. He'd felt her withdrawal, her indecision and for a moment had believed it was about to happen again: her shoving him away, putting distance between them, running from them, what was between them. His heart had begun to pound, only to be suddenly quieted when she'd turned into him instead of away. _Ah, Laura, thank you for that. Thank you for choosing what we are building, for choosing not to run._

He backed away a step, hands reaching for her face, holding it, his thumbs sweeping against her cheeks as he looked at her, then brought her to him to simply press his lips against hers and hold them there for a long moment, to retreat then return, kissing her shortly then backing fully away.

"Dessert, Miss Holt?"

"Dessert, Mr. Steele," she agreed, her face alit, drawing a wide smile from him.

His hand caught her own, fingers intertwining, as they walked across the dance floor to rejoin Jocelyn and Monroe. The delightful apfelstrudel with the succulent crème anglaise that accompanied it was not nearly as tantalizing as the small touches they shared while indulging in the treat.

* * *

Upon their return to the house, Laura and Remington bid a goodnight to Jocelyn and Monroe. Laura adjourned to their bedroom while Remington promised to join her in a few moments and headed to the kitchen. When he arrived in the bedroom, a bottle of white wine and glasses in hand, it was empty, a cold draft entering the room from the cracked balcony door. Setting the wine and glasses on the mantle of the fireplace, he pulled back on the coat that just a few minutes before he'd taken off and slung across his arm while gathering their refreshments. Kneeling, he lit the fireplace, then wine and glasses in hand stepped outside. Placing the wine and glasses on a table between two chaise lounges, he walked over to Laura before wrapping his arms around her from behind. He smiled when she relaxed automatically against his chest, her hands covering his own.

"Thinking?" he asked.

"No, enjoying the view. It's lovely. It's as though Christmas is holding on for as long as it can."

His gaze followed hers down into the valley. The village was clearly defined, the lights decorating the exterior of businesses twinkling. The Christmas tree in the square was fully lit in a dazzling array of green, gold, red and blue lights. Houses in the surrounding area were alight at well. She was right, the vision was lovely. They stood taking in a view, comfortable in the companionable silence, content to simply be with one another, neither sure of how much time had passed. It was she who ended the moment, when she turned towards him, her eyes catching sight of the wine on the nearby table.

"Wine?" she smiled.

"I thought we'd simply enjoy a little more of the evening together. That is if you're up to it. We do have an early morning ahead of us."

She considered his suggestion for a moment then shook her head no. He tried but failed to conceal his disappointment, causing a corner of her mouth to quirk upwards as she draped her arms around his hips.

"A compromise?"

"I'm all ears."

"Tonight, I shower and get ready for bed while you make sure the house is secure. Then once you shower, we get some sleep. Tomorrow afternoon we turn over the truck to Jocelyn and Monroe, and you and I stay in. Dinner, made by you in that kitchen you are dying to get your hands on. _Casablanca_ in the screening room. Wine and the hot tub afterwards. What do you say?"

With a wide grin and a sway of his hips he took a couple of steps closer to her, his arms tightening around her, drawing her even closer.

"Once again, I find myself enraptured with that adroit brain of yours, Miss Holt."

Her lilting laughter drifted across the night air.

"So, we're in agreement then?"

"So we are, Miss Holt, so we are." He leaned in for a quick kiss then walked to the table, retrieving the wine and glasses. He glanced over his shoulder as he headed back into the house.

Laura dispensed of her shower quickly, then pulled on a pair of long sleeve pajamas and a bathrobe. While Remington took his shower, she went to the library and plucked an early edition of "Love Letters Across the Ages" off the shelf. She was cozily ensconced in their bed when he emerged from the shower, towel drying his hair and carrying his pajama top.

Her eyes glanced in his direction then returned to the book in hand.

"Don't even bother asking," was her reply to the question he was about to ask.

 _Ah, Laura. Have you any idea what it does to me, knowing that you want the touch of my bare skin next to yours when we sleep?_

He laughed shortly, then laid the pajama top at the bottom of the bed and tossing the damp towel across the back of a nearby chair, climbed into bed next to her. Mimicking her own position, he adjusted the pillows behind his back, reclining in a partial sitting position. Laura scooted over next to him, laying her head back against her shoulder, book still in hand, devouring whatever it was she read.

Dexterous fingers plucked the book from her fingers, turning it around to read the spine.

"'Love Letters Across the Ages'? I knew you enjoyed indulging in a spicy Charlotte Knight every so often, but poetry?"

"It can be more enticing than any adult novel," she answered with a shrug of her shoulders.

"I admit to enjoying history tomes, an excellent mystery here and there, but I've never indulged in poetry despite Daniel's attempts elsewise."

"That surprises me given you're a romantic at heart."

"Does it now?" he asked looking down at her with a raised brow "Let's give it a round then, shall we?"

Turning the book around, he skimmed the page.

Laura settled back into the crook of his shoulder, lacing her fingers through the hand that lay on her arm, pulling it in front of her. She settled in to listen to soothing timber of his voice as he read aloud.

" _Come back,_

 _Because tonight you are in my hair and eyes,_

 _And every street light that our taxi passes show me you again, still you,_

 _And because tonight all other nights are black,_

 _All other hours are cold and far away,_

 _And now,_

 _This minute,_

 _The stars are very near and bright._

 _Come back._

 _We will have a celebration to end all celebrations."_

"A bit dour don't you think? Love lost and all?" he asked, lying the book against his chest for a moment, his hand moving to finger her still damp hair.

"Possibly. A love lost, but was it regained? I prefer to believe that she returned and they celebrated together." Two hands now held his one, one holding his hand at eye level, while the other explored his palm and fingers.

"One more?" he asked, then picked up the book and selected a random page at the nod of her head. His brow raised, surprised. "Kafka?" His reaction was met by her soft laugh. "Well then, let's see what we have here."

" _I belong to you;_

 _There is really no other way of expressing it_

 _And that is not strong enough._

 _How could I,_

 _Fool that I am,_

 _Go on sitting in my office, or here at home,_

 _Instead of leaping onto a train_

 _With my eyes shut and only opening them when I am with you."_

"Never would I have imagined the writer of The Metamorphosis and The Trial writing poetry. Rather well, too, if I do say so myself." He closed the book, then after laying it on the bedside table switched off the lamp.

He watched in the light of the fireplace as her hand continued to explore his own. The sensation of her fingers brushing over the lines of his palms, sweeping softly up the length of each finger and then back down again was both soothing and sensual at the same time. His fingers moved to finger her damp, curling tendrils of hair, as he patiently waited to hear whatever was on her mind, knowing she would speak only when ready. They lay in silence as the minutes ticked by, he eventually closing his eyes, focusing on the light touches of her fingers against his hand. For a man that craved her touch every minute of each day, her fascination with his hand, wherever it arose from, was an elixir to his overwhelming desire for greater intimacy with her. His eyelids grew heavy and he was about to doze off when she finally spoke.

"Have I ever told you how much I love your hands?"

One side of his lips lifted along with a single brow, pleasure and curiosity mixing. "Not that recall." _I would have remembered, believe me. Your compliments are so rare, each is a treasure._

"I do, you know. Your long fingers" she stroked a finger softly up the length of one of his own "how soft your skin is" a finger explored his palm "their gentleness." She brought his hand to her mouth, holding her lips against his palm for a long moment, his eyes closing at the sensation.

 _Store this time away, old sport, for times like these are far too few and much too far between._

Laura suddenly sat up, her face earnest when she faced him.

 _And never last long enough_.

"I need to talk with you."

He tried to school his reaction, without success. Seeing the look that passed over his face, she felt a small stab of guilt, knowing that nearly every time he had heard those words in the past, the content of those conversations inevitably left him wounded.

"It's nothing bad, I promise," she tried to reassure him, quickly. His look, however, remained guarded, then turned to surprised when she flipped over stretching out across the width of the bed, her head resting on his stomach. Her hand reached for his, merging their fingers once more, before she pulled his arm forward to rest across her stomach.

"What's on your mind, Laura?"

"Do you remember when we were working the Golden Dugout case last year?"

"I do," he answered, clearly perplexed by the direction the conversation had taken.

"Are you aware of the American idioms that merge baseball and, ummm, dating?"

"Are you trying telling me I'm about to 'strike out' Laura?" he asked, voice tight.

She exhaled deeply, getting frustrated.

"I told you it's nothing bad. Can you please just trust me on that? This isn't easy for me."

 _God help me,_ he thought but utilizing years of training, relaxed his body under hers.

"Okay. Go on."

"I mean the bases. First base, second base, third base…home."

"I seem to recall a delightful shortstop," he grinned, momentarily forgetting his worries. His fingers began playing with her curling tendrils of hair that were currently splayed across his stomach.

"Focus, Mr. Steele," she laughed. "Bases, American idioms…."

"I've heard mention made of them, but have little reference to their intended meaning."

"First base: kissing. Second base: touching, above the waist, clothes on or off. Third base: essentially everything but actual sex. Home base, I think is self-explanatory."

He mulled her words for a moment. "What an odd notion, but I suppose it's a fairly accurate representation of the courting ritual."

Laura closed her eyes. _Deep breath, Holt. You can do this._

"So I was thinking earlier, that there really should be a ski equivalent to that, don't you? You know, green slope, blue slope, black diamond…grand slalom…"

"An interesting concept, I'll grant you that," he answered distractedly, once more lost in the silken texture of the hair held between his fingers.

She heaved a sigh of exasperation. _The man needs to pay attention. He should have caught on by now._

" _Focus_ , Mr. Steele."

The aggravated tone of her voice, pulled him out of his thoughts once more.

"Focusing, focusing."

"At dinner tonight, I was thinking about something you said earlier."

"Oh, what was that?" her hair beginning to derail his train of thought once more.

"When you told me you need to know me, to know…" she swallowed heavily against the nervousness that was threatening to cut off her ability to speak, "…to know all of me."

His fingers stilled in her hair, his focus fully on her now, knowing he had misheard or at the very least misunderstood the direction the conversation had taken.

"Yes, I remember the conversation," he told her, carefully selecting his words.

"Right now we are firmly navigating the green slope."

"We are," he agreed tenuously. _What were the other slopes, no bases. What were the other bases? You should have been paying attention, old sport. Black diamond, above the waist, blue? What was blue. No blue was above the waist. Bloody hell, what's black diamond? I can't even remember the last._

"So, I was thinking, perhaps it's time to strap on our skis and test out the blue slope. If our test runs of that slope are successful, then maybe we give some serious consideration to the black diamond. Although…the grand slalom is firmly off-piste, at least until I feel, umm, confident in my mastery of the other slopes and our ability to navigate them successfully together."

 _Okay, Holt, you said it. It's out there. Time for him to either push off or turn back._

He was silent for several long moments, moments in which she recalled his reaction in Cannes, when she had made the impetuous decision to declare "tonight's The Night." Her nerves began to fail her. _When will I ever learn. I put myself out there, and get crushed. He made it clear in Cannes that he wanted an equal voice in where our relationship heads. Have I taken that decision out of his hands again?_

"Laura, come here." His softly spoken words broke through her doubt filled reverie, yet still she did not move until he gave a small tug on her hand.

Sitting up, she turned to face him then watching him toss aside one of the pillows and roll to his side, propping his head on a hand supported by an arm anchored by the elbow on the bed, then stretched out facing him in the same manner. Having convinced herself she had made yet another misstep, she kept her eyes averted from his own. Two fingers skimmed along the underside of her jaw, until they rested underneath her chin.

"Look at me, Laura." His gut clenched when her eyes finally met his and he saw the self-doubt, the questions residing there. "Good God, woman, will you please turn off that pretty brain of yours, and stop using it to flog yourself?" Tipping her chin, he touched his lips to hers. "Relax," he urged, when she pulled away. "We're quite a pair, the two of us, always expecting the worst."

"But in Cannes…"

"Forget Cannes," he interrupted. "God knows I'd like to and those long, lonely months after. This is Vail. Let's concentrate on Vail. Can we agree on that?"

"Alright."

"Now, forgive me if I sound obtuse when I ask this," fingers tucked her hair behind her ear, "but did you just suggest that we move our, uh, physical relationship" deep swallow "…forward?"

She averted her eyes again.

"If that's what you want."

"If…I…want," he said each word thoughtfully, the back of his fingers stroking her neck. "'You're the only real thing I ever wanted.'"

Her eyes met his and she waited. When still he did not speak, she finally smiled, as he had hoped she would.

"Don't leave me in suspense. What movie?"

" _Picnic_. William Holden, Kim Novak, Columbia Pictures, 1955." Before he made an utter fool of himself he needed clarification on one of her points. "When?"

"Now, if…"

Her words were cut off when his lips pressed against hers, his arms wrapping around her, lowering her to her back on the bed.

"Since the day we met, I've wanted nothing more." His voice was gruff with desire, with disbelief. "You're sure?"

"Yes." Her hand skimmed across his shoulder, behind his neck, then pulled down until his lips were mere millimeters from hers. "I want to feel your lips on mine."

"It'd be my pleasure." His breathe whispered across her lips as he spoke, then his lips made contact, softly at first, gradually increasing in pressure as their lips parted then met once more. He teased her lips, nipped softly at them, left them, then returned, until she moaned quietly, part in pleasure, part in frustration, wanting more of what he was so far refusing her. He grinned down at her, knowing she wanted more, but held off a few more moments to allow the anticipation to build, to let her get lost in it. She lifted her eyes to stare at his lips, her hand applying pressure to the back of his neck again. Only then did the tip of a tongue touch a lip, lips part and he began to tease her anew. Nails raked lightly down his back in response, he felt a smile under his lips as his back arched into her hands automatically. With a groan of delectation, the teasing ended, became purposeful, aimed to arouse her as much as she had just done to him. When their lips at last parted, both were breathless.

Blue eyes caught amber ones and held as a thumb reached up to sweep across her lip. Laura's hand captured his, lowering it until it lay atop her breast.

"Touch me." Her request was a plea born of a need to be close to him, to find his hands fully on her at last.

He was helpless to deny her. His head bent until his forehead rested upon her own, his hand settling fully on the soft mound. His breath hitched in his chest as he felt her nipple harden against his palm, his hand pressing upward, testing the weight of her breast. It was only then that he believed this was real, and with that realization he released the breath he'd been holding. His lips brushed over hers again, before journeying down the long column of her neck, touching, tasting as a hand buried itself in his hair, fingers massaging his scalp.

Her breast was on fire, all the nerves ignited by the simple weight of his hand pressing upon it. _I've never needed, never wanted, someone to touch me so badly before._ She gasped as his lips settled in the hollow of her throat, as a tongue flicked against the sensitive area, tasting it. The hand that had long ago lost itself in his hair, pressed on the back of his head, urging him further downwards, an unspoken request to which he happily complied. A thumb swept across her covered nipple, sending shimmers down her spine. Her back arched and she cried out when his lips closed around the taut peak, as his hand abandoned her breast and sought the bottom of her shirt, seeking connection to her bare skin. His mouth left her breast, only to blow against the wet fabric, the sensation jolting her to her core.

Small hands pushed against his shoulders. His hand stopped its upward movement against the bare skin underneath of her shirt. He sighed with disappointment, but willingly removed his hand, then leaned down to kiss her. Her lips melded against his own, then they, too, pulled away. He pushed himself up on his arm, prepared to leave her, when his eyes caught her movement. In a fluid motion, Laura's arms crossed, hands grabbing the hem of her pajama top, then lifting, removed it from her body, a lone hand dropping it to the ground. She lay back, bare for the first time to his eyes, before reaching for him, pulling him down for a sweet kiss, laced with longing.

Their lips parted, and he glanced down at her, soaking her in, his breath leaving him in a staccato sigh. _Ah, Laura._

Her eyes followed his, then the single finger that traced a pattern along the freckles smattered across her chest, before continuing down her center, circling her navel then trailing to her side. Once there, he flattened his palm against her, skimming it along her side, pausing to slowly explore the ridges and valleys of her delicate ribs.

Leaning over her, he pressed his lips beneath her ear, then breathed, "You're beautiful Laura."

Fingers traced his jaw, before lips replaced them, trailing down his neck, until lips found shoulder where they grazed and teeth nipped. Curious hands explored shoulder to waist, trying to ferret out long hidden secrets, delighting in making muscles jump, nerves quiver. Her mouth traveled downward until it found a lone nipple hidden amongst soft, dense hair, a flick of a tongue, then a mouth suckling as soft murmurs of pleasure slipped past hungry lips. A pleased laugh trickled into the air as his body shuddered, a moan of pleasure escaping him.

His hand wandered, fingers tracking over a flat abdomen, ever upward, until at last they reached the swell of a breast. A finger swiped her nipple, her back arched, pressing a small, plump breast into the palm of his hand. His hand left her and he smiled at her moan of disappointment. His fingers moved to the back of her neck, and grasping it lightly, urged her mouth away from his chest, so their lips could join. He kissed her deeply, tongue dancing against her own, as he lowered her to her back on the bed. His mouth broke free of hers with a gasp, and he shifted his body downward, until his face hovered above her breasts.

His eyes feasted on the dusty rose areolas before them, then watched, as his finger circled, her nipple hardening in response before it was ever touched. Two fingers grasped the hardened little bud, rolling it between them. He smiled as she cried out, the sound of her response causing his erection to twitch, almost painfully. At last, he leaned down and finally knew the experience of her in his mouth. His mouth suckled gently at first, then when her back arched, tugged a little more firmly, as his other hand began the pay attendance to her other breast. Releasing her, he blew gently across the wet nub, drawing a murmur of pleasure from her.

Pressing himself up on his elbows, he nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck, teeth nipping, tongue tasting, lips trailing up her neck, behind an ear, until a lobe was nipped, tasted, suckled upon. Laura cried out again, grinding her hips upwards instinctively, coming into contact with his hardened shaft, ripping a growl from deep within his throat. He shifted automatically, away from the contact, removing the pressure. His lips found hers again, resting against them for a long moment, before seeking, devouring. She responded, tongue, lips, meeting his tit-for-tat as her body writhed beneath his, her hands kneading their way down his back, nails scraping against the small of his back. His back arched, as air hissed from between his teeth.

A hand grabbed his, was forced downwards, pressed over and held against the breast that had thus far been left unattended.

"Please." Uttered on a short breath, tainted with undisguised need. Lips quirked upwards in response, before trailing their way across her jaw.

Small hands found their way between their bodies, fingers explored a densely covered chest, one set finding the small nub of his nipple, pinching it lightly, tugging, brushing across it as his back arched upwards. His body threatened to explode from her tantalizing explorations.

"Oh God, Laura, I won't be able to take much more of that," he murmured, dropping his head so that his lips could pay tribute to the freckles smattered across her chest. His hands moved under her back, lifting her upwards, needing more contact. "I feel I've waited a lifetime to taste these glorious freckles of yours," he murmured, words muffled against her skin. He felt, as much as heard, her sigh through his hands on her back.

Hands threaded in his hair, journeyed down his neck, pressed upon his bare shoulders, indicating again where she desperately needed his attention. Her back lifted off the bed when at last his lips caressed her nipple, both hands tangled in his hair, urging him to continue his attentions. A tongue lathed, a mouth pulled, when teeth nipped her whole body twitched in response. Her arms reached under his and pulled him upwards, until he lay on top of her. Her arms wrapped around him, holding him tightly to her, his hands at either side of her head fingering her hair, his forehead resting on hers as they both sought to catch their breaths.

Fingers rubbed against her cheeks, leading her eyes to meet his own.

"You're more than I ever imagined, even in my dreams, Laura." The lips that pressed against hers could feel the soft smile caused by his words.

Her hands pressed against his shoulders. A quick kiss on her forehead, then he rolled off of her, settling in with his back against the bed, leaving his arm open for her to join him. He waited until she draped herself across him, her bare breasts against his skin, a leg draped carelessly over his own, then wrapped his arm tightly around her. Her fingers freely explored his chest and side as they allowed their bodies time to relax after the onslaught of sensation. Laura finally spoke.

"It's frightening, you know." Her finger traced a lazy pattern around his nipple. Sucking in a deep breath in response to the sensation, his hand grabbed hers, holding both still against his chest.

"What is?"

"If it's like that between us when we are just, ummm, exploring the blue slope, what's it going to be like when we…"

"Complete the grand slalom?" he asked, finishing her sentence for her.

"Yes."

His hand released her, to stroke her chin then tip it upwards.

"As close to heaven on earth as one can get, I imagine." His lips gently touched hers then moved away, his cheek nuzzling the top of her head.

They fell silent as they considered his words. Her hand found its way to his side, and began stroking it.

"How old were you when you met Monroe?" She heard the laughter rumble in his chest.

"I should've known you wouldn't forget."

"You're right, you should have," she laughed.

"Nineteen, nearly twenty."

"I thought you were with Daniel from fourteen on?"

"For the most part. Shortly after I turned eighteen, I lit out on my own. I wasn't drawn to the con, at least not one of the cons Daniel intended for me, the con he oft utilized."

"What kind of con was that?"

"Using our, err, charms, to beguile a woman away from her possessions."

"Did you? Did you ever take a woman to bed to get what you were after?" She felt him stiffen underneath of her.

"Just once," his voice was tight, held a touch of bitterness. "I didn't like myself much after. Vowed never to do it again."

Laura propped her chin on his chest, then lay her hand on his cheek.

"I can see that. It's your nature."

"How do you mean?" He refused to look at her, knowing if he saw in her face the condemnation for his act that he still held for himself to this day, it would be unbearable…especially so soon after they had at last moved forward.

"You respect women too much. Respect yourself too much." His eyes finally met hers, relief hovering in their depths, along with a lingering dose of doubt.

"Knowing this, does it change your estimation of me?" He forced the words past the lump in his throat.

"I would think so. You were young. Eighteen? It was what you'd been taught, yet still you walked away from that part of the life. How you ever maintained your innate code of honor," a hand moved to rest on his chest "this heart, speaks volumes about who you are." She returned her head to his shoulder as an arm tightened around her shoulders and lips pressed against the top of her head. "So you left at eighteen. Is that when you ended up in Barbados with Monroe?"

"Not directly. I spent near on a year prospecting in the Yucatan, before moving on to Brazil where, of course, I met up with Barney…"

"The Kilkenny Kid, Pride of the Pampas." Fingers idly explored his chest, her eyes watching as the hair fell back into place when her fingers passed.

"Yes. I hopped a container ship there, bound for Barbados, working my way for the fare. Met Monroe 'round a week after I'd arrived, when we got into a tussle at a bar."

"Over a woman?" She smiled at the laughter that rumbled in his chest, then hummed as his fingers stroked the bare skin on her side.

"It's what Monroe believed, at least. Frankly, the young woman he'd been seeing had made overtures to me, hoping to make him jealous. I'd say she succeeded."

"Why fight him, if you'd done nothing then?"

"Frankly, I'd been spoiling for a fight, after what Barney'd done. Monroe and I became good mates, once we were done pounding the tar out of one another."

"How long has he been in LA?" she asked on a yawn.

"Going on two years now. Decided he was tired of the life, was ready to retire and walk the straight and narrow. Simply needed a friend and a few quid in his pocket to set him on his way. His business has done…" he trailed off as he heard her sigh, her arm grown heavy against his chest. Tilting his head, he looked at her and confirmed she was sound asleep.

With a glance at the alarm to assure it was set, he carefully settled down lower on the bed. Wrapping both arms around Laura, he allowed himself to give in to sleep. The last thought to cross through his mind before sleep over took him, surprised even himself. _I want this time to last the rest of my life._

* * *

Laura had only been asleep for a couple of hours when she woke, uncomfortably hot. It only took her a moment to ascertain why: the fire that had been blazing in the room for hours, the central heat running at full tilt, the heavy comforter covering her and the very warm body wrapped around her. She tossed back the comforter trying to find some relief from the oppressive heat, then laughed to herself.

Sometime during the night they had changed positions. Remington was now spooned firmly against her backside, one arm wrapped around her waist, while the hand of the arm that pillowed her head had claimed a breast as its own. Carefully untangling herself, she pulled the comforter back over him as she climbed out of the bed. Picking up her robe, she shrugged into it, tying the belt as she left the room. After a quick but refreshing glass of water in the kitchen, she returned to the bedroom. Turning off the gas logs in the fireplace she quietly slid open a door to the porch then leaned her back against the jam, enjoying the cold air brushing across her body. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. _There's something about the mountain air…_

A rustling of bed sheets drew her away from her thoughts. Turning her head, she smiled as she watched Remington's hand search for her, even in his sleep. Not finding her, he roused, pushing himself up on an elbow, his eyes scanned the bed, then glanced towards the bathroom. Door open, light off, even in his sleep befuddled mind it was clear she was not in there. His eyes scanned the perimeter of the room, finding her, immediately registering the open door, the cold air seeping into the room, Laura dressed only in a silk dressing gown.

"You're going to catch your death from the cold. Come back to bed, Laura."

She briefly considered refusing, her hackles normally rising when anyone told her what to do rather than ask. _What's the point? It's where I want to be._

Closing the door, she stripped off her robe, laying it across the bottom of the bed before climbing back in. His arms reached for her, pulling her back snug against his body, wrapping her in his embrace. When her feet nudged at his legs, he unquestioningly lifted the top leg allowing her an opening, then lay it back down once her cold feet were comfortably ensconced between his calves. Shortly before they both fell back asleep, his hand slipped down to cup her breast once more. With a silent laugh and a shake of her head, she lay her hand over his, twinging her fingers through his, smiling as his own fingers folded around hers. With a quiet sigh, she slipped back into her dreams.


	2. Chapter 2: Black Diamond

Chapter 2: Black Diamond

"You're being obstinate." Laura frowned at Remington, still annoyed.

"Aye." The smile that accompanied his easy agreement was met by a look of complete vexation from the auburn-haired beauty standing next to him, drawing a quiet laugh from him.

Their day had started pleasantly enough, very pleasantly as a matter of fact. How could it not when he was awoken that morning by the woman standing next to him kissing him awake, her bare breasts pressed again his equally unencumbered chest, followed by time spent exploring with his hands, his mouth, those same breasts, as he'd listen to her hums, gasps in response to his movements? _A delightful way, indeed, to start a day._ His tongue flicked against his lips at the memory, his smile growing wider.

"Stop that!" Laura all but stomped her foot next to him as a flush crawled up her skin.

 _Don't laugh, or you'll really set her off, old sport. Your Miss Holt is not at all used to not getting her way in things. Dare to laugh now and she'll poleaxe you for certain._

"Stop what?" He kept his countenance carefully controlled, portraying casual curiosity.

"Stop thinking about this morning and focus on the argument we're having," she fairly growled at him.

He glanced at her, his eyes darting quickly towards her chest, desire painted across his face. He looked away for a moment and when his eyes returned to her he was perfectly collected.

"Argument? I wasn't aware we were having an argument. I'd say it is more a spirited debate."

 _Damn him. That look on his face has_ _me_ _thinking about this morning now! The feeling of my breasts in his hands, in his mouth, the taste, the texture of him against my hands, against my mouth. The things he can do to my body…Stop it, Holt! Focus. We're arguing. If he hadn't given you that look… Did he give me a look? He's looking at me like he always does when he's amused because he's irritated me. Did I imagine the look? Am I the one that can't get my mind off the way his long fingers… Stop! Focus! We're arguing. What about? Think. Think. That's right! Because he's refusing to go off and ski on his own. Is there a more stubborn man?_

"Debate, argument, call it what you want. Either way, we're not done discussing this!"

It had started at breakfast a little over an hour before. The four of them – she, Steele, Jocelyn and Monroe – had been going over the trail map, planning out their day.

"Looks like this peak," Laura had pointed at the middle of the map, "Is most suited to you and Jocelyn, while the trails over here," pointing to the right side of the map, "are ideal for Monroe and I. We can split up and then just meet this afternoon for lunch over here at Mid Vail. What do you think?"

He'd picked her arm up, and redirecting it, placed her finger on the right side of the map. "Lovely plan, Laura, except I'll be schussing down the mountain with a lovely young woman, over here."

Laura had pulled her hand out from under his, and pointed to the center of the map once more. "The majority of the Black Diamond runs are over here, Mr. Steele."

"Indeed they are. That doesn't have a bearing on where I'll be, however." He'd grinned at her, tweaking her anger.

"Must I remind you, you're an expert skier. You belong over here."

"To the contrary, I belong wherever you are." He'd picked up her hand and kissed the back of it, his bright blue eyes staying in contact with her own, unnerving her.

With a glance at Monroe and Jocelyn, who'd sat back and were listening to their discussion with a great deal of amusement, she'd given Remington a look that told him the conversation was not over. Now, they stood at the Mid Vail lift station waiting to load into the gondola that would take them to the summit at Wildwood.

He sighed, deeply. While he'd been amused with her pique throughout the morning, as he undeniably found Laura's fiery temper a part of her charm, allowing her to work herself up into a full-blown fury would serve neither of them well.

"Would you mind holding our place in line for a moment?" he'd asked the young couple behind them, flashing his most charming smile at the young woman.

"No…no…of course not," she stammered, as was often the result when a young woman found herself the victim of those blue eyes and bright smile.

Grabbing Laura's hand, he pulled her out of the line, moving towards the rail of the ramp where they could enjoy some relative privacy. Taking her skis from her, he laid them down next to his own, then placing his hands on her hips, pulled her forward – a difficult task as she was firmly planting her feet by now – until she was close enough to allow him to drape his arms around her waist. She raised her chin mutinously at him, her eyes flashing fire.

"What do you think you're doing dragging me out of line like that!? I'm not your child and I'm not your little woman. You can't just…"

Remington lay a single finger on her lips

"Laura, stop. You know that was not my intent. I simply wanted a moment of privacy where we can discuss what's bothering you. Can we do that?" Dropping his finger from her lips, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his ski jacket and waited.

She looked out over the mountain, watching the few lone skiers that had already made it above as they flew over the snow down the mountainside. _I knew, I knew, if we moved our physical relationship forward things would change. Yesterday, our plans had been all set: he with Jocelyn on the expert trails, Monroe and I on the Intermediate. Now that we've moved ahead, he feels he has to stay at my side._ Two fingers moved to rub her left brow. _I made a mistake. If he's this way now, what will he be like at work? I don't need, can't have, an accommodating Mr. Steele. I need him to keep challenging me. That's what makes us the team we are together._

"Talk to me, Laura," he quietly urged.

"It's changed everything," she finally answered, her shoulders drooping as she averted her eyes.

"What has?"

"Last night." He frowned at the answer.

 _Yes, it has. It's taken us a step closer to what we are supposed to be to one another; a step closer to where we won't be able to deny what we are to one another. You're scared, ready to run again. But I can't say that to you._

Instead of voicing his thoughts, he chose to leave the field of conversation open for her. "Oh, how so?"

"This!" She waved her hand out towards the slope, clearly frustrated. "Yesterday, it was all planned out – you with Jocelyn, me with Monroe. But now, after… after we moved ahead… You're worried about upsetting me by not spending the day with me. _I_ can't have that. _We_ can't have that. What makes our partnership work so effectively is our differences. We fight, we argue, we plant our feet, we demand the other listen. If you're already giving up what you want here, what's it going to be like at work?"

"I wasn't aware I was giving up what I wanted." She threw up her hands in frustration.

"You are! Yesterday, you wanted to run the Black Diamond courses…"

"Did I now?" Leaning his back against the rails, he crossed his arms and watched her closely.

"Yes! You said, Jocelyn and you…"

"Did I?" he raised a brow in challenge at her. "Or did you?"

"I didn't…"

 _Did I? Yesterday he and Jocelyn were comparing stories about St. Moritz. I asked Monroe if he had much ski experience, and… Oh._ She bit her lip, chagrined. _Well, I may have been wrong on that point, but I'm not wrong about him being overly solicitous because we took a step ahead. That's the point._

"Okay, no you didn't. But you were looking forward to skiing the expert slopes and now because…"

"I'd don't recall saying that either," he contradicted.

She paused, searched her mind. _Damn, he hadn't. That's not the point either._

"My point is we can't stop being who we are…"

"Doesn't appear to me that we've stopped at all," he challenged, infuriating in his calm.

"What do you mean? Of course we have, you're just going along with…"

"Seems to me I'm not going along with what you want, and that's what has started this whole affair."

"But…"

"No 'buts', Laura. Are we arguing?"

"Yes, but…"

"No 'buts'. Have I planted my feet?"

"Yes, b…." at his scowl, she broke off the word before she said it. "Yes."

"Am I listening to you?"

"Yes." She crossed her arms, lifted her chin, determined not to give in.

"Am I making you listen to me?"

"Yes." She scowled at him, irritated he was taking the upper hand in the conversation.

"Then what's changed? Other than, that is, we've taken a step closer to one another and that scares you, so once more you're trying to find a reason to put distance between us?" Now he was getting agitated. _You knew it was coming, sport. One step forward, two steps back. That's your Laura. Bugger it. Will this ever get any easier? When will she stop fighting what we are to one another?_ "Bloody hell, Laura. When are you going to start coming to me when you're scared, instead of running from me? I thought we'd gotten past this in London!"

The words came out unplanned, born of frustration, but he let them stand nonetheless. Stepping away from her, he turned and leaned his arms against the rail, looking out at the slopes. She stood watching him for a moment, then moved to the rail, and leaned her arms against it like him.

 _Is he right? Am I trying to push him away?_ She closed her eyes and searched her heart for the answer to the question. _It was so easy, it felt so right. With him. Always with him. So why am I so scared?_ She kept her sight on a skier as he navigated the dips and turns of the slope below, allowing her mind to find its own way. _Because each step ahead takes us one step closer to when he leaves. Damn my father, damn Wilson. Will they always come between us? Damn Daniel, for that matter, for only confirming what I've always been afraid of: That once we make love, his curiosity will be sated and he will be gone. Won't he? These last months it's seemed that he needs me as much as I need him. I can feel it. Putting distance between us again won't provide any answers, but maybe some of that good old fashioned honesty I am always demanding will. What do I do?_

They stood silently against the rails, not looking at one another, not speaking for several minutes, their place in line long ago gone. Finally, with a glance towards him, she let out a long sigh. Moving away from the rail she walked over to him, lay a hand on his arm. When he turned toward her, she laid her hands on his sides, and while rubbing her hands in short strokes up and down his sides, bent forward, laying her forehead against his chest. After several moments, he lay his hands on her upper arms, began rubbing them. Only then did she speak.

"I'm scared." Her words were spoken so softly he barely heard them.

"I know. I know." Wrapping her in his arms, he pulled her tight against him before setting his chin on top of her head. "I'm not going anywhere, Laura. I hope you'll believe that one day."

"I'm trying." Her arms tightening around him, she tucked her face in the crook of his neck, then pressed her lips against his turtleneck.

"I know." Releasing her, he placed two fingers under her chin and tipped it up until she was looking at him. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For coming to me, instead of pushing me away." Leaning down he pressed his lips briefly to hers, before pulling her back into a hug.

"You're welcome, Mr. Steele." Hugging him tight, she pressed her lips against his neck again.

Releasing her, he leaned down and picked up both sets of skis, handing hers over to her.

"Milk run, Miss Holt?"

"By all means, Mr. Steele."

* * *

The day had been as exceptional as they'd both hoped. While on the first run, Laura had stuck to the fall line while Remington had encouraged her to at least try some of the skills she'd mastered during her youth. By the second run of the day, she was traversing with ease and feeling all around more comfortable in her boots. By the third run they had left the green circles all together their focus on the blue square, and on the final run of the day he'd managed to convince her to tackle the Big Horn – a blue slope with a little more than a half mile run of black diamond at the end of the course. She'd found the challenge of navigating the glades and berms nearly as exhilarating as the look of pride he'd had on his face when he'd yanked off his goggles and grinned widely at her at the end of the run out.

Nearing time to break for lunch, Laura insisted Remington take at least one run on his own down Golden Peak Race, a black diamond course that required exceptional skill. While he'd clearly been thrilled to spend the day with her on the intermediate slopes, she knew her adrenaline junkie partner needed, deserved a run that would challenge his skill level that had been so clearly apparent during their time together. If the kiss he pulled her into the moment he removed his skis after the run was any indication, she'd been right. She looped her arms around his neck, grinning up at him.

"Apres ski, Mr. Steele? Jocelyn and Monroe have probably already beaten us to the restaurant."

"I can think of something I'd prefer more," he commented, nipping softly at her lower lip, trying to draw her back against him.

Laura wiggled out of his grip with a laugh. "We have tonight to ourselves, so plenty of time for that later. Right now, I need food. I'm starving."

Dropping their ski's in the rack provided, they entered the restaurant after spying Monroe and Jocelyn at seated at a table in the rear, joined them to exchange good food, better champagne and sometimes exaggerated war stories about their day. All-in-all, a good time was had by all.

During lunch, both couples had decided to forego any further skiing that afternoon, the ladies opting instead to strap on some skates and try out the ice underfoot. Both Monroe and Remington declined, Monroe stating "I've embarrassed myself enough for one day, I'd like to keep some pride about me," while Remington had simply gone with his old standby of "weak ankles, don't you know." The women had laughed at them, but left them to their preference of leaning against the wall surrounding the rink and watching.

Laura took several turns around the ice, getting her feet under her. Once comfortable, she completed picture-perfect arabesques and attitudes while Remington watched on proudly. She was in the process of trying to perfect the camel spin, when she came to an abrupt stop, watching someone across the ice. Following her eyes, he watched as Jocelyn completed a double axel then flowed easily into a double toe loop. He turned to Monroe, impressed.

"Model, expert skier, figure skater. Jocelyn is quite the impressive young woman," he told the man standing next to him.

"She is that, mon ami. A lady of many talents, she is."

"Are you and she going somewhere then?" Remington asked, then became distracted by something on the ice.

He smiled, as he watched Jocelyn demonstrate a single axel to Laura, apparently coaching her. Listening to Jocelyn and nodding her head several times, Laura took off then launched herself, but landed before completing the turn, taking her feet out from under her and landing her square on her derriere on the hard ice making him grimace. Undaunted, she stood up then skated back to Jocelyn, where she listened aptly to the other woman's critique. After several more tries with the same result, she finally landed the jump, turning to grin at Remington after she used her toe pick to stop her reverse motion. He grinned back at her with pride.

Monroe had been watching his old friend the entire time, unbeknownst to him.

"You are in deep, my friend." Monroe's comment was brief and to the point, catching Remington off guard.

Glancing at Monroe, he decided there was no point in lying about it. They had been friends for many years, and the man knew him far too well.

"Aye," he agreed with a nod of his head, his eyes on Laura as she successfully completed another axel.

"How long?"

He glanced at Monroe again then sighed. _No use dancing around him. He's nearly as persistent as Laura._

"I imagine from the first moment I saw her." He shrugged, hoping it would be the end of the discussion. Granted there had been many times across the years that he could have used a friend to talk to, and certainly Daniel was anything but impartial when it came to Laura, but years of keeping things close to the vest were at times difficult to overcome.

Monroe, recognizing this, continued to prod, knowing his old friend would eventually open up to him.

"And that was how long ago?"

Remington closed his eyes and shook his head, realizing now that Monroe was by no means going to let this conversation go. _Ah, bugger it._

"Going on three and half years now."

"I knew you'd been in LA for some time, but had no idea it had been that long. Quite frankly, I am stunned. You, the bon vivant traveler that had never stayed much of anywhere beyond several months, planting roots?"

"No more surprised than I, of that I can assure you." Remington laughed. "I certainly didn't plan it."

On the ice, Laura made turning motion with her finger, talking animatedly to Jocelyn at the same time. Nodding, Laura skated out again, then turned into a simple spin before returning to Jocelyn. They conversed for another minute or so, when Jocelyn skated out and demonstrated a camel spin as Laura closely observed. After another brief conversation, Laura skated forward again to attempt the spin. She made it two full revolutions before catching the outside edge of the blade and going down hard on her knees. Laughing, she pushed herself back up and returned to Jocelyn to discuss her mistake.

Monroe had remained quiet as Remington was clearly caught up in watching Laura, but when the other man laughed, launched back into the conversation again.

"Laura is the reason you have stayed on then?"

"Aye, more or less. Far more 'more' if I am to be honest. I enjoy the job, find it surprisingly fulfilling, helping people. I could perhaps let that go, although not easily. But her? I've found it's impossible."

"Then you had tried to leave at some point?"

Remington glanced again at Monroe, then laughed without mirth.

"Twice in the first couple of months that I was here, when it became clear I'd not be able to lure her into my bed with anything short of a commitment."

"Yet you stayed. Why? The Mick I knew wouldn't have put more than an hour or two worth of effort into trying to lure a woman into his bed, before moving on to the next."

Remington laughed deeply, Monroe joining in. They both fell silent when their laughter ended, Remington caught up once more in watching Laura try to perfect the camel spin. He cringed when she hit the ice again. _She's going to be black-and-blue everywhere soon. Yet, she keeps going back for more. That's my stubborn girl._ He laughed softly, drawing Monroe's attention again.

"So, what made you stay, my friend? My curiosity is admittedly peaked."

"In those first couple of months? Perhaps the memory of the look on her face a few days after we met when I'd meant to continue on to San Francisco. Of course, it could have also been the number of times she put the heel of her shoe through the top of my foot when I irritated her…."

"Put her heel through the top of your foot? Surely, you must by joking."

"If only I were," he laughed. "It's a bloody miracle I was able to walk after that first year. Hurt like hell, I'm not afraid to admit. But my, she is a vision when she's angry. Quite the pistol, my Miss Holt."

"Now I've heard it all. Mick O'Leary brought to heel by a woman who puts a heel through his foot on a regular basis."

"I assure you, if she put her heel through your foot, you wouldn't be laughing," Remington commented drily.

Monroe roared with laughter at this comment, drawing curious looks from people nearby. When he was able to stop laughing, he continued to question his old friend.

"And after those first couple of months? You didn't consider moving on again?"

"Mmmmmm. After a murderous twit named Creighton Phillips passed through our lives, it was no longer even an option."

"How is that?"

"Laura went out with him a couple of times, before our investigation revealed he was the killer we'd been seeking. I realized then that even the idea of another man…" he struggled to find the right word "…having her… was completely intolerable. If I'd moved on, that, of course, would be exactly what would've happened." Even across the length of ice, he could see Laura shivering from the cold bite of the air. Looking around, he spied a drink cart about a hundred feet away. "Walk with me. We can continue our talk as we get the ladies something hot to drink. Truth be told, I could use something myself."

Hands in pockets, they walked side-by-side over to the beverage cart.

"Two hot teas, lemon only and two hot chocolates, my good man," he told the attendant. Glancing back at the rink, he saw Laura successfully completed the camel spin for five full rotations, before bringing herself to a stop, drawing a smile to his face.

"You said you couldn't leave after those first two months, yet this last spring you did precisely that. And I must say, mon ami, you did not look good when you came by my place before your departure. Was your countenance Laura's doing?"

Remington gave a sharp nod of his head. It was a time he preferred not to remember…ever.

"What happened?" He shook his head several times, his face tight.

"She ended us for the second time."

"Second time?"

"Yes, not nine months prior she'd ended us the first time while we were in Cannes on holiday. Partly my own doing, I'll give her that. It took us six months to find our way back to each other, and not three months later, she ended it again." _I can't, won't, tell him about Westfield. I'll not disparage her in that manner._

"Why?"

"'If there's anything worse than a woman livin' alone, it's a woman sayin' she likes it.' Pillow Talk. Rock Hudson, Doris Day, Tony Randall, Universal Studios, 1959."

"The independent type, then, is she?"

Remington nodded.

"Fiercely so, I'm afraid. Bound and determined to need no one but herself. Couple that with the fact that she is absolutely terrified that if she gives herself over to me I'll up and leave…"

"She ends your relationship before you either take her independence or leave her behind with a broken heart." Monroe came to the conclusion naturally and with deadly accuracy.

He nodded sharply again, before they walked back to the rink. Seeing Laura glance in his direction, he held up the steaming cup of hot cocoa for her to see, and with a bright smile she began to skate towards him, Jocelyn following along behind her. Coming to a sliding halt at the wall, Laura gladly took the hot chocolate in hand and after taking a long swallow of the warm liquid, smiled up at him.

"A man after my own heart, bringing me hot chocolate on a cold day," she laughed.

Remington's blue eyes looked at her with laser-like intensity. "Indeed, he is." She blushed, both at the look and the serious tone with which he said the words. He tap danced back from a truth he'd journeyed too close to. "Enjoying yourself?"

"I am. Jocelyn's an amazing coach." She nudged the other woman with her elbow playfully. "She's going to teach me split jump next." Tipping up the cup, she drank the rest of the hot cocoa and handed him back the empty cup. "I need to get back out there before my muscles tighten up. Staying?"

"I'm just going to walk over to the store, right across the street there, and pick up a few things for dinner. Shouldn't be gone for longer than fifteen, twenty minutes I imagine. Will that give you enough time?"

"It should. I'll see you when you get back." Laying her hand on the wall to push off and head back to center ice, she found her hand suddenly caught in another, and her forward motion halted abruptly. She fought to keep her balance, laughing as she righted herself. She stepped back to the wall, laughter lighting her eyes. "Do you need something?"

"You know I do." Laying his fingers across the back of her neck, he drew her head towards him, kissing her softly several times before releasing her.

She watched as he smacked his lips together and smiled broadly at him. "Are you good for now?"

Those intense blue eyes returned to hers again. "For now."

She pushed away from the wall and headed back to the center of the link, her lyrical laughter trailing in her wake. Monroe, thankfully, waited until both women were out of ear shot before speaking again.

"You love her." His comment was not phrased as a question, but a statement of fact he expected verification of.

"You don't give up, do you, old friend?" Remington asked, regarding Monroe with a sideways glance. Monroe waited patiently for his response. With yet another sigh, he gave in. "Yes."

"Does she know?"

"I believe so, though she'd deny it. She demands the words." He nodded his head towards the small grocery store across the street, and began walking towards it, Monroe walking alongside.

"And you haven't given them to her."

"Words don't come easily to me, old friend. You know our ways."

"Believe the actions of a person, not their words. I know them well, mon ami. Have you tried?"

"I've wanted to, more times than I can count. But what then, if she ends us again?"

"You've chosen a hard road, Mick."

Remington laughed and slapped Monroe on the back.

"Don't I know it, mate. But we both know, I've never been able to resist a challenge, and Miss Holt is certainly that. Keeps me on my toes, she does."

Both men were laughing as they jogged across the street.

A few minutes later on the ice, Laura executed a perfect split in the air. When she came down, her blade failed to catch the ice, and she landed on her back, her head bouncing off the hard surface. Jocelyn's hand flew to her mouth when she saw Laura's head impact the ice, then gaining her wits about her, pushed off hard, skating as quickly as she could towards the unmoving women. Dropping to her knees next to Laura, Jocelyn screamed out, "We need a medic."

A flurry of activity ensued, as the rink medic appeared out of seemingly nowhere. Opening the first aid kit he'd brought with him, he snapped a small vial in two and waived it under Laura's nose. After a couple of moments, she began shaking her head from side-to-side, trying to avoid the noxious odor. When her eyes fluttered open, the medic and Jocelyn helped her into a sitting position.

"What happened?" Laura mumbled.

"You missed your landing came down on your head," Jocelyn supplied. "Are you alright? You scared me to death!"

"I'm fine. Nothing that a couple of aspirin won't fix." Laura assured her, then jerked reflexively when the medic beside her touched a particularly sore spot on her head. She sucked in her breath between clenched teeth. "Really," she told the man kneeling beside her, "I'm fine."

"You may have a concussion, ma'am," the medic advised. "I think you'd be wise to head to the ER and have it checked out."

"I'm fine. Please stop fussing over me," her voice was sharper than she meant it to be. She glanced towards where Remington had been standing, but couldn't see the store across the street over the wall. _The last thing I need is Mr. Steele showing up with this medic all over me. He'll have me in bed all night and not in the way I would want!_ "Jocelyn can you help me up? I suspect I'm done skating for today."

Jocelyn took Laura's arm and helped her stand. The crowd that had gathered began to disperse as she came to her feet. Skating, a bit shakily, by her own admission, over to the edge of the ring, she shoved open the gate, then flopped by in a nearby chair. Jocelyn sat in the adjoining seat, watching Laura with concern.

"Are you sure you're alright? You took a really hard blow to your head."

"I'm fine. I promise. I need you to give me your word you won't tell M… Remington about this. He'll wrap me up in bubble wrap the rest of the trip if he finds out. It's the first vacation we've managed to take in years. I don't want a silly fall to ruin it."

Jocelyn frowned at Laura, not comfortable with the request, but also not wanting to ruin the other couple's trip by alarming Mick unnecessarily.

"If you're sure you're okay…" she hedged.

"I'm fine. Really. I've taken harder hits than that in the line of duty." Seeing Remington and Monroe jogging across the street, she warned Jocelyn. "They're coming. Not a word. I really do owe you."

Laura stood, skates in hand, then lifted her head for his kiss when Remington approached.

"Ready to head back to the house? I've had all the falling I think I can take for one day."

"Ready when you are. Monroe, Jocelyn? Anything you need to take care of before we return to the house?

"No," Jocelyn answered for the both of them. "We'll meet you at the car. I'm just going to get these skates off and turn them in. Laura, do you want me to turn yours in as well? It's no bother."

"Sure. I appreciate that." Laura handed her skates off to the other woman. "We'll see you at the car."

Taking Remington proffered hand in hers, the couple walked away towards the truck parked a few store fronts down.

"Monroe, I'm worried." Jocelyn glanced over her shoulder to make sure Remington and Laura had continued on, then turned back to him.

Monroe sat down in the chair Laura had just vacated, and took Jocelyn's hand in his own.

"What's on your mind, Cheri?"

"I need your word you won't say anything to Mick. I gave my word to Laura."

"Very well, you have it. Now what's bothering you?"

"It's Laura. She was working on a split jump. When she came down she missed her foot placement and hit the ice hard. I've never seen someone's head bounce like hers did. I think she might have a concussion."

"Did she lose consciousness?"

"Yes. The medic wanted her to go to the ER to be examined, but she refused. She doesn't want Mick to know."

"If Laura says she is fine, I'm sure she is. She and Mick are injured all the time in the course of business. They both know when they're injured as opposed to merely knocked around a bit."

"If you're sure…"

"I am. Now let's turn in those skates and catch up with Mick and Laura. He's offered us the truck this evening, and I plan to whisk you away for a romantic interlude this evening."

"That sounds divine." Jocelyn turned to him and gave him a passionate kiss. "Hopefully that romantic interlude will turn into a vigorous encounter when we return this evening."

"Most assuredly it will, Cheri. Let's be on our way, then."

After turning in the skates, Monroe and Jocelyn met Remington and Laura at the truck. Not a word was mentioned about her mishap on the way back to the house.

* * *

Remington whipped up, in his estimation, a simple meal of pasta alfredo and a salad for dinner. He and Laura freely imbibed in a delightful little Bordeaux both before and during the meal. It was no surprise to Laura that by the time they'd adjourned to the screening room, she was more than a bit sleepy. Only a few hours of sleep the night before, a full day on the slopes followed by ice skating and a carbohydrate driven dinner accompanied by wine was more than enough for her to want a nap on her healthiest of days.

The screening room had been designed with comfort in mind: all seats were oversized, and all allowed the person sitting in them to recline fully, with their legs up, if they so desired. The fact that Remington had insisted she share the chair they were currently sitting in made taking a short nap all the more appealing. Within fifteen minutes of _Casablanca_ starting, she was curled up against his side, sound asleep, as his hand lazily rubbed her arm.

She stirred as Ilsa, Rick and Victor appeared to be at the mercy of Captain Renault in the airport. She watched in silence, not alerting Remington she was awake, as Ilsa and Victor walked across the airstrip into the thick, soupy fog. She shook her head, wondering how people considered the movie to be one of the most romantic ever made. Wasn't it the rule that in the final frame of the movie the star-crossed lovers were supposed to end up living happily ever after? No, in her estimation, the movie was more of a tragedy, as Rick forced the love of his life flee with her husband. 'Here's looking at you, kid,' indeed.

 _I know Mr. Steele and I have always said our motto is "business before pleasure," but by God if he ever tried to force me to leave him in the line of duty I'd…I'd….track him down halfway across the world and bring him back home to me. And then I'd put my bare hands around his neck and wring the life out of him for thinking he could just toss away what we have in the name of duty. Oh, no, I wouldn't be the one left with the broken heart. In Mr. Steele's words…bugger that._

"What thoughts are racing through that beautiful mind of yours, Miss Holt?"

Laura lifted her head against his chest and smiled up at him.

"How did you know I was awake?"

"I always know the moment you wake, just as I know when you wake with that mind of yours in overdrive."

"Oh, how do you know?" _I'm not sure if I love that he knows me so well, or if it scares the hell out of me because it gives him the upper hand. After all the years we've spent sleeping in the same room during cases, these past few months that we've slept in the same bed, here and there, by choice, I can't ascertain when he's sleeping or playing cat-and-mouse with me._

"Simple enough. When you wake the cadence of your breathing changes. When you wake with your mind dissecting a problem, formulating a plan," Laura stretched like a cat beside him, "you don't stretch yourself awake… as you're doing right now I might add."

Laura glanced down at herself, then laughed and relaxed her body. "Fair enough."

"So, what matter were you pulverizing when you woke?"

"I was just thinking that if you ever forced me to leave you, especially with another man in the name of business, that I'd be forced to find you, bring you home… then kill you."

 _Ah, Miss Holt, a little slip of the tongue there, or is this yet another step ahead for us? Do you realize that you just admitted that what we have is more important than business? Do you realize that you just admitted you are unwilling to let me go?_

"Now it seems I've lost you." Her fingers brushed back the lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead. "What are you thinking about?"

He raised a brow and looked at her. Pursing his lips, he tried to decide how honest he wanted to be with her. _Bloody hell. You might not be able to give her the words she needs yet, but you can at least give her this._ He reached out and rubbed a length of her silken hair between his fingers before looking at her.

"You."

"Anything specific or just me in general?" _Ready to move back to further explorations of the blue slope are you?_ Her fingers began tracking across his chest, only for him to catch her hand in his and hold it still. She looked more closely at him, saw he was not in a playful mood but a serious one. She sobered instantly. "What is it?"

"It just occurred to me that you are the only person who has taken the time to track me down when I've moved on to parts unknown."

"That's not true. Daniel came here, so did Felicia."

"Because they needed my skills for a job or because they were in trouble and needed a hand out of it. No one has ever come find me simply because they needed me to be a part of their lives. Until you. Until London."

Laura's breath caught in her chest. _How? How did the people in his life not see what I do? How did they so readily let him walk away? Their failings are their loss and my gain. He's here with me because of them, and I won't let him simply slink away into the dark of the night, not without a fight. He's mine. I need him._

Laura pulled her hand away from his, then swinging a leg over his lap, sat up, straddling him. Without hesitation, she leaned forward and caught his lips with her own. She kissed him with unabashed need, allowing her emotions to guide her. Lips caressed, teeth pulled gently on the lip between them, a tongue flicked out asking him permission, then entered his mouth, found his own, touched, massaged, tangled. A murmur of contentment when strong arms crushed her against him, a gasp of longing when he pulled away, only to rejoin their lips, upping the ante.

This time it was she that broke the kiss, that moved away. Grasping his face in both of her hands, she looked at him with unconcealed love he was sure she was not aware lay naked before him. "I need you in my life. Me. Mildred needs you in her life. We will always come find you and bring you home. I promise. I will always find you."

He felt the tingle behind his eyes signaling tears to come. He closed his eyes against them. He hadn't cried since the day he'd walked into Laura's loft, moments after Carl had shot her. He would not cry now. Opening his eyes, he looked at her, worried his lower lip with his teeth as his he lay his hands on either side of her face, stroking it before holding it more firmly, pulling her towards him. "Laura, I l-"

"At last I've found you," Monroe's voice boomed out from behind the chair where they sat. Laura's head snapped up, looking at him a bit dazed for a second, before she plastered a smile on her face.

"Your timing is impeccable, as always, Monroe," Remington answered, unable to hide the exasperation in his voice.

"This is some set up Gallen has in here. I could make a fortune selling the electronics and accoutrements to the elite for their own private screening rooms," Monroe mulled.

"Yes, well why don't you work up a business plan on that when we get back to LA?"

Laura dropped her forehead against Remington's in vexation, then mouthed silently "hot tub." He nodded, and after dropping a quick kiss on her cheek, patted her hip. Climbing out of the chair he followed after her, then grabbing her hand headed towards the door of the screening room.

"I do believe I will." Monroe turned towards the chair in which the couple had been sitting and seeing it empty saw them heading out the door. "Mind if Jocelyn and I partake of a movie, mon ami?" he called after them.

"Be our guest," Laura called back to him.

In the bedroom, they silently agreed that Remington would change in the walk-in closet, while Laura would use the bathroom. As he stripped down, he quietly mumbled to himself, damning his friend to hell for interrupting them at such a crucial moment. The time had been right for him to say the words she needed to hear, had actually come to him with ease during the moment. Who knew when such a moment would come again?

"I swear to you, Laura, Monroe's worse than Mildred at interrupting us." He spoke loud enough that she could hear him in the bathroom, heard her lyrical laugh in response before she called back.

"He certainly is as effective a chaperone as she is." She wrapped a thick, terry cloth robe around her and walked out of the bathroom towards the bedroom door.

"Where are you going?" He'd emerged from the walk-in, ensconced in a robe as well, moments after she'd left the bathroom. She looked over her shoulder at him and laughed in response to his question.

"To lock the door. No more interruptions."

"A woman after my own heart." He smiled towards her, his smiling faltering when she looked at him in all seriousness and replied, "Indeed."

 _What am I going to do with her?_

After grabbing the remnants of the wine from dinner and their glasses from a table by the door, they shoved their feet into their boots and headed outside, trodding down the snow laden pathway towards the hot tub. Laura set the wine and glasses down on the side of the hot tub, while Remington moved to the fireplace, switched on the gas and lit it. He turned in time to watch Laura drop her robe on a chair and kick off her boots, shaking herself against the cold night air.

She was a sight to behold. Dressed in an aqua, two-piece suit that showed off the gentle curves of her torso and her long, shapely legs, it occurred to him that it was the first time he'd ever seen her in a bikini. The one piece in Acapulco, yes. In lingerie, several times across the years. But never in a bikini. The thought was provoking yet not nearly as enticing as the thought of getting her out of it. His eyes never left her as she slowly stepped into the steaming water.

Catching him staring, she laughed.

"Stop ogling and come join me." She raised a brow in challenge, one he was only too happy to meet. Kicking off both his boots, he dropped the robe and quickly descended the stairs into the large hot tub. Grabbing the wine and glasses, he made his way to the seats in front of the fireplace. She followed without question, as he filled both glasses, handing her one when she joined him. Taking a sip, she set the glass back down, then swung her legs over his, straddling him.

"Now where were we?" Her voice was husky with desire, her eyes molten. Without taking his eyes off of hers, he set his glass on the deck, then with ran his splayed hands up her neck before embracing her head in his hands and drawing him to her.

"Right about here I believe."

He claimed her lips gently, lips running against hers in soft caresses joined together almost as one. Slowly he increased the pressure, as his hand slipped behind her neck, stroking there while applying subtle pressure to bring her mouth closer to his. Her sigh against his lips kicked the kiss up a notch, as teeth began to nibble and a tongue began to taste.

Her hands wandered, fingertips exploring the ridges of his ribs on his sides, the thick hair of his chest, following the trail of hair at the center of his torso ever downwards, circling his navel with a single finger, before she splayed her fingers out to explore the taut muscle of his abdomen, luxuriating in the feel of his muscles jumping under her fingers at her touch. He groaned deep within his chest, and she laughed as a hand found hers under the water and moved hers away from waistband of his shorts towards the safer area of his back.

"There'll be none of that, Laura. It's been too long."

He'd mumbled the words against her ear, where his lips freely grazed. He sucked in a breath as her lips fell upon his collarbone, lips touching, teeth nibbling, mouth suckling as small hands continued their thorough exploration of his back, touching, massaging, feathering across his skin. Fingers slid up a bare back to release the ties that held on a top, then tossed the suit uncaringly onto the deck. The long fingers of a hand explored the sensitive skin of a breast, as lips moved to freckled shoulders to taste, to explore. Her mouth greedily suckled the skin where back of the neck met shoulder, drawing his skin deep within her mouth when a finger brushed across a nipple. His body stiffened at the sensation, then he chuckled, knowing she'd marked him in her passion.

His laughter died when she pulled her mouth from his shoulder, and pressing up on her legs, lifted her breasts out from under the water. Exposed to the cold night air, he watched as her nipples hardened before his eyes, all but begging for his mouth to taste, to explore. Fingers brushed across puckered peaks, before palms settled below each breast, testing their weight.

"My God, you're beautiful, Laura," her murmured, before dropping his head and drawing her into his mouth with a sigh.

A back arched as nails dug into shoulders in response to a hot mouth indulging on far too long neglected breasts. She cried out as his mouth pulled upon one hardened bud hungrily while fingers rolled the other between them. Her hands reached between them, to rake her nails lightly up his chest, his groan of pleasure met with a nip of his teeth, harder pull on her nipple. She gasped, arching her back, pressing her breasts even further forward.

Suddenly she pulled away, her breast pried from his mouth with a quiet pop, his hand chasing after it, finding it, continuing his explorations as she leaned forward to run her lips up his neck towards his ear.

"Touch me." Her hot breath brushed against his ear.

There was no doubt the words were spoken, but in his passion muddled brain he was nearly certain he had misunderstood. He pulled back, looked at her questioningly, unable to catch her eyes as she ducked her head down to run her lips up the other side of his neck, before pulling on the lobe of his ear with her teeth. His hands found the small of her back, pushed her upwards, until her breasts were one more revealed. He ran his mouth against the neglected breast, tasting, exploring.

A hand nudged him away from her breast, lifted his head. Her lips traveled across his jawline, found his mouth, her tongue delving deeply, daring his own to come out and play. The moment his tongue made contact with hers, she pulled away, then returned to murmur against his lips.

"Touch me." Her words now held the slight reverberation of a plea. She pressed her lips against his again, as her hand took his and moved it ever southward until she lay it against the heat of her core.

His body stopped moving, fingers stopped exploring, lips stopped responding, lungs stopped inhaling.

"Laura, are you sure?" The question came from him on a gasp, of hope, of surprise.

"Yes," she murmured against his lips, teasing them until he began to respond again. "Black Diamond is open" a nibble upon a lip "I need to feel your fingers" a tongue darting out, tasting "touching me, inside of me." She moaned with relief when his lips claimed hers, dancing over them, pressing against them, possessing them, before he broke away.

"Then turn around," Remington instructed breathily.

Laura moved off him, then turning herself around, settled back on his lap, her bottom pressing firmly against his bulging erection. He stiffened against the sensation of her rubbing against him, only exhaling when she settled in. One arm anchored around her waist, holding her snugly against him, while the other moved to her breasts to explore, touch, tease once more as his lips found her neck, a tongue reaching out to taste now and again. A mouth and lips tempted newly discovered erogenous zones below an ear, on the back of a shoulder, at the nape of a neck, as fingers learned mastery of her breasts, how to touch, where to touch, when a brush of thumb was preferred, the pinch of a nipple. Only when Laura was writhing in his arms with need, did both hands reach down to peel the remainder of her suit from her body.

A hand and mouth returned to their diligent inquisition of her body, while long, tapered fingers explored the soft curls at her apex. His mind wandered, imagining the color of the hair that covered her mound – was it dark or auburn like the hair of her head. He longed for the day when he would discover the answer. Fingers ran across thighs, discovering the softness of the skin that concealed the power of the muscles lying underneath. He knew only too well the strength of those legs after years of watching her run, climb, and jump while chasing a suspect.

His eyes closed, when questing fingers at last ran along the bare juncture of her legs, relishing the moisture that had pooled there in response to their closeness. His shaft twitched where it was nestled between them, demanding to know the sensation of being buried within her. _One day. One day I'll know. For now, this is so much more than I had dared to hope for._ A finger parted her finding her hub of sensation, flicked, touched, circled as her hips pressed forward, needing more contact.

Her hand reached behind his neck, pulling him down to her. They kissed long and deep as his other hand descended to reposition her legs, one on the outside of either of his thighs, opening her further to him, while nudging her slightly higher on his body. Her lips left his, she cried out as a long finger slipped inside her, while the other hand continued to torment the nub above. _So tight, so wet, so hot._ Her muscles clenched at his finger as he searched for the exact spot that would give her the most pleasure, knew by her gasp, the arch of her back, the shuddering of her body, when he found it.

 _Too much, too much, too much._ Her body instinctively began pulling up, away, trying to control the response he was drawing out in her. He nuzzled the crook between neck and shoulder, his whiskers scratching against her skin, before his mouth began move up the column of her neck, landed behind an ear, his tongue flickering over the sensitive patch of skin. With a moan of pleasure she sank against him, drawing his finger higher inside.

Her mouth searched for and found his own. They kissed thoroughly, his mouth capturing her deep moan as a second finger joined the first. Her hips began thrusting, the feel of any part of him inside of her making her desperate for release. She needed to explode, to splinter, to relieve the pressure that was building. His fingers left her nub, pressed upon her stomach, rubbing it soothingly, trying to calm her.

"Let it happen naturally, Laura" lips touched hers softly "Let it build, feel it" teeth pulled gently on a lip "It will be worth it, I promise you" a mouth claimed hers once more as she slowed her motions, relaxed more against him. His finger returned to flick, to circle, to tease, to play as the fingers inside her stroked with purpose against the sensitive spot he'd found, the tempo of the caresses gradually increasing in speed as he felt her tension build. Finally, as she hovered on the precipice, his mouth left hers, and finding the spot where he' inadvertently marked her two days before, he nuzzled, then pulled firmly with his mouth, with purpose, sending her over the edge.

She cried out as her body clamped and pulsed around his fingers, her arms wrapping around behind him to clench his back, holding tight as her back arched, his mouth capturing, tasting her cries, sobs, moans and gasps of her pleasure. He lost himself in the feel of her muscles clenching around his fingers, imagining how it would feel when he was fully sheathed by her core. The orgasm continued on and on, and when it at last released its hold on her, she turned in his arms, straddling him once more, folding herself into his arms, lying her head against his shoulder, her arms wrapping tightly around his back, trying to pull him close. His arms moved automatically around her, one arm holding her close as his fingers brushed against her back, soothing her while the other moved further upwards, settling at the back of her head, holding her tight, but not before a finger slipped into his mouth, to savor the taste of her against his skin.

 _She tastes like Heaven, as though her flavor was made for me and me alone. My God, what am I going to do with her?_

Leaving his thoughts behind he focused his attention on her when she turned her face into his neck breathing in his scent, seeking closeness. She struggled to calm her breathing, her body shuddering from time to time. He whispered against her ear, helping her find her way back to him. "Relax, Laura. Breathe deeply. I'm right here." His hands continued to caress, soothe her body with long strokes of his hand from neck to hips, until at last her breathing evened out and her body melted against his. She pressed her lips against his neck several times before speaking.

"I never imagined it could be like that, it's never been like that..."

Her words were both an elixir to a soul often tormented by her drawing near, only to pull away once more and one of the most potent aphrodisiacs he'd ever known. His body, already barely contained, roared nearly out of control. It took all his concentration to rein back it back in. Only when he was fully back in charge, did he pull her from his shoulder where she still lay, to take her head gently between his hands, pulling her forward to kiss her softly before leaning back and looking at her. His thumbs stroked lightly across her cheeks.

"Laura, you'll never know how deeply you touch me when you say such things."

Laura smiled contentedly, then lay her forehead against his own, as her fingers danced over his shoulders, before one hand made a decidedly southerly turn. Her fingers ran playfully through the hair on his chest, two fingers squeezing a nipple, a smile lighting her face when he hummed his pleasure. His lips found her shoulders one more, fingers a breast, as she continued to touch, to explore. When her fingers brushed with purpose across his hardened length, he nipped a little bit harder than he intended at the shoulder he'd been nibbling upon. A hand quickly dropped below water level, grabbing her own, stilling it.

"Don't. My body's already on the edge, Laura." The words were spoken softly, yet the part warning, part plea was clear.

Laura pulled her hand away from his, her fingers tucking underneath the waist band of his suit, touching the tip of him. His breath fairly hissed out between his teeth at the sensation of feeling her touch him for the first time. He attempted to grab her hand again, to pull it away, but once more she slipped away from him.

Leaning forward, she kissed him, teasing him with her tongue, her lips, teeth. Breaking the kiss, she ran her mouth across his jaw, running her fingers up his length again, feeling his hips jerk beneath her. Kissing him again, she murmured, "I want to know you, all of you. Just like you want to know all of me." Remington closed his eyes and breathed out harshly, before opening them again and looking at her. Reaching a hand behind her neck, he pulled her lips to his, kissing her deeply once more. When he broke off the kiss, he leaned his head against hers. His voice was ragged when he spoke.

"Touch me, Laura." Laura smiled, then pressed her lips against his before sliding off his lap.

She stood before him in the hot tub, then reaching up, tucked her fingers in the waistband of either side of his suit, shimmying it down his body, freeing it when he lifted his hips from the seat. Tossing it onto the deck to join her own, she resumed her position on his lap, shivering when his erection touched her stomach. Circling him with her fingers, she ran her hand up the length of him, smiling when he groaned.

"Oh God, Laura," he gasped, his body jerking at her touch. His pulse began pounding in his ears, the simple touch of her hand against him a delicious torture that sent his blood pressure ever upwards. _Years of dreaming of her touching me never prepared me for the reality of her._

Laura leaned forward touching her lips to his. She fully expected him to kiss her hard and deep, and was shocked when he skimmed his lips across hers, light as a feather, as her hands felt and explored his considerable asset, concealing her surprise at finding him uncircumcised. Fingers tangled in the course, dark hair surrounding his center, then explored the texture and weight of his scrotum. She found if she brushed her fingers lightly across the tip of his shaft, he would moan deeply, while the slightest pressure just beneath his scrotum would see his hips lifting off the bench, and a firm grasp at the base of his erection would leave him squirming beneath her. She set her hands free, to touch, feel, explore, reveling in each groan of pleasure he gave voice to. Unable not to touch her, feel her in his mouth, under his hands as she took her time with him, his hands splayed across her back, urging her to move closer, to push herself further from the water.

As her hand closed around him firmly and began to move up and down his length, his lips found her breast, his mouth a nipple. A slight tug had her crying out, arching her back, pressing her breasts forward, only feeding his arousal. As the tempo of her hand picked up, fingers adroitly ran over his scrotum, touched the sensitive area underneath, only to move to the base of his shaft, easing the foreskin back circle the head of his shaft with a thumb. He let out his breath in shaky hiss, only to draw a deep breath in after several moments. Fingers reached for her other breast, touching, teasing, her own arousal increasing the tempo her hand and fingers against him. He jerked spasmodically when a lone finger explored the slit in the head of his shaft, when it left, her thumb returning to massage under the rim.

He pulled her to him, lying his open mouth on her shoulder, tasting her, running his lips along the freckles that had fascinated him for so long as he felt the familiar, yet too long unexperienced tightening of his groin. Sensing he was near she acted more boldly than she had ever acted with a lover before. Moving her hand to the underside of his erection, she angled her hips, and pressed him against the folds of her core, and began to move against him, imitating the act they both longed to share. Feeling her hot and wet against him, her hair tickling his tip, sent him careening over the edge, taking her along with him when he pressed his pulsating shaft hard against her already overly sensitive nub.

"Laura," he breathed out her name heavily, pulling her mouth to his own, as her own cries of pleasure joined his. He held her body tightly pressed against his own, relishing the feel of her shuddering in his arms as his own body found its release after too many years of needing contact with her. When the last twitches of their mutual orgasms ended, he lay his head against the back of the hot tub, pulling her even tighter against him, tucking her head under his chin.

Her hand lazily fingered the short hairs at the nape of his neck, while his own hands stroked her shoulder and back. Only when they had both fully recovered did they pull apart and look at one another. His blue eyes blazed with tenderness and a sense of completeness she'd never seen before, making her heart pitty-pat. In her own eyes, he found the love and acceptance he'd been craving to see there for years. He knew, in a glance, that she'd finally accepted what he knew all along: that they belonged to one another from the moment that they'd met. Now, he only had to keep her believing that, to nurture that feeling until her compulsion to run from the intensity of what they felt for one another was overshadowed by the need to cling to what they had.

Giving her a soft kiss, he wrapped one arm firmly around her, while he arched back, his hand reaching to find their clothes that had long since left their bodies. When his searching fingers found all three pieces, he pulled them under the water in the hot tub to warm them, before they began to redress. After pulling on their bottoms, he had her turn around and lift her hair, then retied the top of her swimsuit in place.

"I don't know about you, Laura, but for some reason I suddenly find myself in need of a very long nap, preferably with a very beautiful woman pressed up against me."

She laughed, then with a hug and a final kiss against his neck, pushed herself off him.

"Ready for a mad dash to our robes?" she asked, already dreading the cold air that would slap at their bodies as they left the water.

"As ready as one can be," he laughed.

Together they sprung up the steps of the hot tub, reaching the chair that held their robes at the same time. They quickly shrugged into them, then stepped into their boots, shivering in the night air.

Remington turned away from Laura to go put out the fire and gather up the wine and their glasses.

She shook her head several times, trying to shake off the sudden nausea that overcame her with the quick movement from hot tub to robe. _That was a mistake_ , she thought to herself, as the head shake had sent the world around her spinning. When she felt him join her and loop his arm around her side, she mumbled, "I don't feel very well…." Then her legs went out from under her and she slipped into darkness.

Her words had barely registered with Remington, before he felt her body suddenly go lax next to him. Instinctively he dropped the wine and glasses and turned quickly towards her, catching her before she collapsed into the hard pavers beneath their feet. Stunned, he swung her up into his arms and moved hastily through the bedroom door, lying her down in the bed the moment he crossed the room. He called out to her several times with no response, with similar results when he gave her a gentle shake.

"C'mon Laura, c'mon, c'mon, wake now. It's time to wake."

Her stillness, unresponsiveness sent him spiraling backwards in time, to when he'd almost lost her at the hands of Carl in her loft more than two years before. Mind numbing panic set in, and he raced to the bedroom door, slinging it open and moved quickly to the base of the stairs.

"Monroe," he shouted, then hearing no motion above shouted again. "Monroe, wake up damn it."

This time he heard feet moving across hardwood floors, a door slung open, and footsteps rapidly approaching. Monroe, hair disheveled and bleary eyed, looked down the stairs at his friend, recognizing as soon as he saw him that something was terribly amiss.

"What is it, Mick? What's happened?"

"Get the truck warmed up, fast. Something's wrong with Laura."

The color blanched from Monroe's mocha colored skin at Remington's words, and he turned on his heels and raced back to his room. Throwing a coat over his pajamas and robe, and sliding on a pair of slippers, he was pounding down the steps on the way to the front door before Remington emerged from the bedroom he and Laura shared, carrying her, still unconscious, wrapped in the comforter from the bed.

Above, on the catwalk, Jocelyn gasped, drawing Remington's attention before he turned and continued to move quickly towards the door.

"She was hurt at the rink today," Jocelyn yelled out to him, her voice laced with fear. He froze and turned to look at her.

"What do you mean _hurt_?" he demanded.

"She was working on a jump. Came down wrong. Hit her head hard on the ice. She blacked out. The medic had to bring her to with ammonia capsules. She made me promise not to tell. She didn't want to ruin your trip."

He looked at Jocelyn then down at Laura. Fury and panic blended into one emotion.

"Bloody hell," he cursed fiercely, then securing Laura tightly in his arms, rushed out the door to the truck, climbing into the passenger side, still holding her, mindless of the front door left open behind him.

He turned ice cold blue eyes on Monroe, as the other man pressed the accelerator of the truck to the floor, pointing the truck in the direction of the road.

"Tell me you didn't know she'd been hurt today, that you didn't tell me, mate." Remington words were clipped, angry.

Monroe glanced at Laura, his face flooding with guilt, then nodded. Remington turned his head away from Monroe, refusing to address him further along the ride. Instead, he focused on Laura, trying to rouse her without success on the fifteen-minute trip to the ER.

 _What in the bloody hell was she thinking? Why on earth would she think a vacation would be more important to me than her health? How could she have hidden this from me?_ were the words that haunted him along the ride to the hospital. So desperate was he to see her wake, that when she was loaded onto a gurney at the ER, the lie slipped naturally from his lips when they tried to wheel her away from him.

"She's my wife. She's not going anywhere without me."

The nurse glanced at him, but seemingly believed the ruse, giving him a curt nod that he could follow.

It wouldn't occur to him until much, much later how easily the words "my wife" had slid off his tongue.

Another vial of ammonia under the nose roused Laura from unconsciousness, although she did not, by any means, bounce back as quickly as she had at the rink that afternoon. The nausea had latched on to her, and every time she attempted to sit up, the room moved. She mumbled occasionally incoherent replies to the questions she was asked by the doctor, a vast difference from her usual crisp, clean and, melodic speech. More worrisome to the doctor was that she seemed to have no recollection of the fall, or the minutes before it.

"I've ordered a CT scan for your wife, to rule out any brain bleeds," the doctor had informed him. At the doctor's words, Remington squeezed her hand more tightly in his own, as his heart sunk to his toes. Thankfully, she was still too dazed to absorb the reference the doctor made to "your wife." He stayed by her side until radiology arrived to take her for the scan. Then, there was nothing for him to do, but sit and wait.

Shaking his head, Remington stood and after wrapping his robe more tightly around his body, walked towards the waiting room to where Monroe waited. Despite his anger at his friend – bloody hell, all three of them – he knew Monroe would be worrying about the cost of the secret he had kept from his long-time friend. He found the man sitting in an empty waiting room, head bowed into his hands. He looked up warily as he saw Remington enter the room.

"They've taken Laura for a CT scan, to rule out any… brain bleeds," Remington stumbled over the last two words, his stomach clenching as he said the words. "but she's awake." Turning on his heel, he made to leave the room.

Monroe launched himself from his seat, and approached Remington from behind. "Mick…"

Whirling, Remington's right hook landed squarely in Monroe's jaw sending him reeling backwards into the floor, the man's back bouncing off of the chair he'd been sitting in only moments before. Remington took two quick steps towards his friend, fully planning to pick him up and land another blow Monroe held up a hand for him to stop.

"Mick, I'm sorry. I'd no idea it was serious. Had I, I would have told you." Monroe's voice was strained with the guilt he was feeling.

"You didn't know how serious it was? That's your reasoning?! You know what that woman in there means to me, what she is to me! You knew she'd been hurt and you kept it from me!" Remington roared the last words, releasing the fury he'd held back so far.

Monroe pushed himself to his feet, standing with both hands held out from his side, parallel to the floor. "You are, of course, correct, mon ami. Do what you must, I'll not fight you."

Remington's anger diffused as rapidly as it had appeared. Moving to a nearby chair, he sat down wearily. He waved his hand at Monroe. "Sit down. Sit down. I'm not going to take another swing at you, mate." Dropping his face into his hands, he scrubbed at it with the palm of his hands. "Truth be told, you and Jocelyn were only doing as Laura asked. Stubborn woman that she is, she hates to be coddled. She knew if I were aware of her accident that I'd put my foot down, make her take care of herself. Instead, there we were, carrying on as though nothing at all were wrong. Had I known, I'd have had her here the moment she took that nap during the movie. Not like her at all… napping." Remington stood and moved to the door of the visitor room. "I'll let you know when we find out more."

Laura was brought back into the room a few minutes after Remington returned. Time lingered on, slowed, seemingly intent his mind be allowed to run amok with the possibilities. While he waited for someone to bring word of the test results, he resumed his place at the side of her bed as she dozed, every once in a while reaching out to brush her hair away from her face, to touch her hand while his nervous energy continued to build. When the doctor returned to the room, he took her hand in his own, and patting and rubbing it several times, watched her rouse. She rolled over in the bed, with a moan and a grab at her head, then tried to focus.

"The scan's clear," the doctor noted without preamble. "She has a grade two concussion. Bed rest until the headaches, nausea and dizziness disappear, and afterwards, limit activity for the next two weeks. I shouldn't have to say it, but it bears repeating given the events of the evening: no alcohol, no hot tubs until the symptoms abate. I'd feel better if she'd allow us to admit her for observation, but since she has made it clear that's not an option, she'll need to be awakened every two hours. If you're unable to rouse her, bring her back in immediately.

"Thank you, doctor." Remington rose and offered a hand, shaking it when the doctor offered his own in return. He sighed deeply as the doctor left the room.

"I told you there was nothing to worry about," Laura mumbled from where she lay on the bed, rubbing her head in response to the headache that was pounding.

"We'll talk about it later." While his anger at Monroe had abated, it was still simmering in regards to his lovely partner. He'd have his say, but only after they got her through the worst of it.

"There's nothing to talk…" she tried, only to be cut off again.

"We'll talk about it later. But for now, it's time to get your lovely self home and into bed. And be warned, Miss Holt, I'll brook no argument from you."

A nurse walked into the room pushing a wheelchair and handed Remington the release papers to be signed. Scrawling his signature on the various forms, not caring a whit about what they contained, he watched as Laura worked her way gingerly from the bed into the chair. They were escorted to the entrance of the ER by the nurse, then waited as Monroe retrieved the truck. Once the vehicle rolled to a stop, Remington swept her up out of the chair and carried her to the vehicle.

"This isn't necessary, I can walk," she'd mumbled when he'd lifted her into his arms. He'd summarily ignored her claim, resisting the urge to point out she also believed she could hide her injury from him as well, and as soon as the vehicle began to move, he watched as she fell back to sleep on a soft sigh.

Jocelyn was waiting up when they arrived back at the house. When she raised her guilt-stricken face to apologize, Monroe silenced her with a shake of his head and a raised hand. She stood quietly watching as Remington carried Laura back to their bedroom.

"Concussion, a rather serious one. Give him time, Cheri. He is angry at the moment, but if I know my friend, by morning he'll be far more willing to listen to explanations and offer forgiveness." Monroe took Jocelyn's hand in his and patted it comfortingly. "For now, let's take ourselves to bed. It's late, and I've promised Mick to pick up some groceries before we head to the slopes in the morning."

Wrapping his arm around Jocelyn's shoulders, they walked up the stairs to their room to dwell on their part in the evening, and to finally get some restless sleep.

In their room, Remington pulled underwear and a nightgown from Laura's drawers, having every intention of helping her get changed for bed. She'd have none of it, only allowing him to escort her to the bathroom, as the room still tilted and did a merry spin from time-to-time. Once she was changed, teeth and hair brushed, she stepped out of the bathroom only to be swept back up in his arms and carried to the bed. After she was settled, he turned out the bedside lamp, then retrieving his own clothing went into the bathroom closing the door behind him.

Laura turned on her side drawing the covers close up around her. _He feels betrayed. I can feel it, almost vibrating in the air around him._ She closed her eyes, listening to the drone of the water from the shower, and eventually, despite her determination to remain awake until she was in his arms, her treacherous, injured head betrayed her, and she drifted off to sleep.

When Remington emerged from the bedroom, he went and stood next to the bed. Two fingers swept her heavy hair back over her shoulder. Assured that she was sleeping, soundly at that, he left the room. After a quick stop at the wet bar to grab the decanter of scotch and a glass, he sought the refuge of the screening room. Browsing through the titles offered, he settled on an old favorite. Soon after the opening credits rolled past, he lost himself in an old favorite, Alfred Hitchcock's _To Catch a Thief_ (Cary Grant, Grace Kelly, Paramount, 1955).

An ungentlemanly like snort escaped him, at a line delivered by Grant: "You don't have to spend every day of your life proving your honesty, but I do." He tipped his glass to Grant then knocked back the two fingers of scotch it held before he poured himself another generous portion. _Isn't that the truth, mate. Despite years of turning myself inside out to be the man she imagined her Remington Steele to be, I still have to prove myself to her each and every day. Yet when she…_ _when she_ _… lies to_ _me_ _, there's always an excuse, always a justification as to why it's okay._

He chuckled ruefully to himself, then took another long draw of his scotch. Stretching his long legs out in front of him, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the verbal foreplay bandied about by Grant and Kelly. _Reminds me of us, they do. Ah, Laura. My own Frances._

He sensed her presence, never having heard her approach. _Stealthy as a cat, she is, when she wishes to be_ , he thought to himself, with a faint smile and a shake of his head. Never opening his eyes, he waited until he heard her settle in the nearby chair before speaking.

"You should be in bed, Laura. Doctor's orders. I'd have been in to check on you in another fifteen minutes."

She curled herself up in the chair, leaning her cheek against the back of the seat. "Checked on, but wouldn't have stayed."

Silence steeped between them, as he considered her question. "I've no idea, in all honesty."

"Look, I know you're angry…"

"Furious would be more accurate," he answered in a voice that was so calm it made her cringe.

"And I know at some point, we're going to be talking about what happened…"

"Mmmm hmmm, although I don't know if talk is an accurate description."

"Alright, we'll be fighting then."

Silence reigned between them for several minutes. Wondering if perhaps she'd fallen asleep, he cracked open his eyes and stole a sideways glance at her, saw that her eyes on the screen in front of them as the ending credits rolled. He closed his eyes and finished off the last of his scotch.

"This is one of the hardest parts of being with you." Her words were spoken quietly, the treble of frustration, injury infusing them.

"That I get angry with you?"

"No, not at all. We both give as well as we take in that area."

A long silence stretched out between them again, as she considered what to say, even how to say it. _I know I owe him an apology for hiding what happened out there on the ice today from him. But this? This I don't deserve. How do I make him understand what_ _this_ _does to me?_ In the end, she simply chose to close her eyes and let it all out, damn the consequences.

"I turned sixteen on a Wednesday, the year my father left. Because it fell in the middle of the week, my mother gave me a choice on when to have my sweet sixteen: either the weekend prior or the weekend after. Wednesday was, of course, completely out of the question as it would interfere with her carefully created routine for each day. I chose the weekend after as it was a little further from the holidays that had just passed, but not too terribly close to Valentine's Day, making it likely that no one would have plans. I wanted a big turn out, you see – after all I was turning sixteen." She laughed softly, briefly.

"The party was simple, but sweet. My parents moved all the furniture out of the living room, so that people could dance. Streamers were hung, balloons blown up, a banner that wished me a happy sweet sixteen strung up. My father asked me to dance about midway through the night. I realized even then that most girls my age would have been appalled, dancing with their father in front of all their friends. But not me." Another small laugh, a smile flitting across her lips. "I loved my Dad and was so proud that I was his favorite." She chuckled shortly. "Petty I know, but true. I went to bed that night dreamily thinking about all the wonderful things that would happen to me in the year to come: getting my driver's license, being allowed to get a job and earn my own money, a trip to Paris that summer with my French club."

She paused, rubbing her arms, fighting off the feeling of panic that came over her whenever she thought about what the next day had brought. She swallowed hard, then continued to talk.

"The next day when I woke up, my father was gone. Just like that. No note, no phone call. He was simply gone. For weeks Mother did nothing but cry - I think more because he'd humiliated her in front of all her bridge club group than anything else. Then, suddenly nothing. No more tears, no more hysterics. Just numbness, no emotions, nothing. I didn't want to end up like her, I wanted to live. I turned wild for a few months. Sneaking out to parties, getting drunk, skipping a class here and there, but none of that made me feel alive. So I made the decision to really be bold. In the backseat of a filthy, smelly 1961 Plymouth Fury – funny how I still remember the make of the car – I had sex for the first time with a boy named Marty Klopmann. I'd been teaching him how to kiss for months by that point. That alone should have told me it was a mistake. And it was. I cried myself to sleep that night and for several nights after. I didn't feel bold, or free. All I could do was think how ashamed my father would be of me."

She heard him shift in his chair. She opened her eyes and found him lying on his side in the recliner, facing her, his blue eyes fastened on her. She closed her eyes and continued.

"I didn't really date the rest of my high school years. I needed to concentrate on me, getting past my father leaving and everything his abandonment of us meant. It wasn't until college that I began to explore again. It was in my sophomore year that I pulled those fake red glasses out, to tempt my professor into bed. As I've told you before, they worked." A laugh, then a heartbeat of silence. "The sex was good. He was forty-three years old, and unlike Marty understood the concept of foreplay, enjoyed showing a woman a good time. We never went on a date. We'd simply meet up in his office, in his car, a couple of times in the classroom at night, have at it and move on. When my class ended at the end of the semester, so did we. It was alright by me." She shrugged her shoulders, leaving the memory behind.

She breathed in deeply, let out a shaky breath. _It's all about this next part. If I make it through this, then maybe he'll understand what nights like this do to me._ She curled her legs tighter up against her body, brought her fingers up to her brow and began to rub.

"I dated several boys in college, but no one that held my interest for more than a couple of dates, no one that tempted me to join them between the sheets. After my professor, some part of me had decided I needed more than a fling. I wanted stability, reliability, something I could count on, day in and day out. Then, three months before graduation, Betsy and Joanna convinced me to join them and some friends at a little bar in town. At loose ends that night, I decided to go. That was the night I met Wilson. I was twenty-one, he twenty-four and already established as an up-and-comer at the bank. For several months, we only saw one another when out with the group, as he adamantly refused to take me out – yes, I asked him out numerous times – until I had graduated. He thought it would be rather crass to have to explain that to business associates that I was just a college kid. It wasn't until I started interning at Havenhurst that he asked me on an official date. Our first date was on a Wednesday. I should have known, even then." She laughed sardonically.

Exhaling deeply, she opened her eyes, avoiding his, which were still focused on her and her alone. She stood, took his glass out of his hand, and reached for the decanter of scotch near his feet. Before she could pour the first drop, he plucked the glass out of her hand. "No alcohol, Laura, d-…"

"Doctor's orders," she finished for him. "I'll be back in a minute then." Touching her arm, he shook his head at her.

"Sit down, I'll go make you a cup of tea. Won't take long." She nodded and curled back up into the chair she'd just vacated, determined not to nod off before she finished. _It's too important._

He returned a few minutes later, a steaming mug in his hand. He ducked his head to look at her, thinking she may have fallen asleep, when her eyes opened and she smiled hesitantly.

"Thought you might enjoy this more, given the hour."

Laura took the mug and took a sip. Hot chocolate. _Perfect._ "Thank you."

"You're quite welcome." He settled back into the recliner he'd left, turning once more on his side. He kept his eyes closed until she began again.

After taking several sips, she hugged the warm mug up against her chest, then closing her eyes, continued from where she'd left off.

"We dated for just short of a year before we moved in together. There were too many signs to count, signs that I ignored or justified away that should have warned me against living together. As I've told you before, he tried to calm me, tame me, make me more respectable, more responsible, more appropriate as a significant other of a banker of some importance. It didn't start until after I told him I loved him. It was as though the moment I said the words, he saw a neon light go off in his head that said: now it's time to fix her. It was subtle at first – a suggestion that I change a particular outfit, claiming he favored me in another; a different color of lipstick, saying it was more becoming on me. I went along with it, of course, wanting to make him happy. Over time the criticisms became more direct, words chosen less carefully. I don't think he ever meant to be cruel, he was simply... determined that I fit a certain mold."

Opening her eyes, keeping them carefully on her mug, she took several drinks of the now warm brew, before leaning back into the chair and resuming her story.

"It didn't even realize the pattern at first. An argument, and he'd be too tired to have sex; the wrong thing said at the dinner function and he'd refuse to speak to me on the way home, even at home that night. As time went on, it became more insidious. 'I can't look at you right now, Laura,' or 'I can't be near you right now, Laura.' There were times we'd go days where he wouldn't speak with me, acknowledge me. I'd be invisible, insignificant to his world. It was like you, during those few days Anna was in our lives, but worse, because it simply never stopped. It was a very effective punishment for whatever gaffe I had committed, because it hurt more than if he'd hit me. I think he'd just reached the end of his rope, wanted out, didn't know how, so instead he just 'got out' in his head, leaving me behind, time and time again." She laughed, a bit of hysteria in the undertone, shook her head. "Yet I was shocked when he actually did pack up and leave. How stupid was I?"

She started, almost spilling her hot cocoa, when the back of his fingers brushed down her cheek. She instinctively turned into his hand, needing his contact.

"I could gladly kill him for doing that to you, Laura." His voice was cold, belying the gentleness of the hand that stroked her cheek.

It was only then that she opened her eyes, let their eyes meet. He felt a knife go through his heart, seeing those amber colored eyes he adored glistening with unshed tears. She sighed sadly, looked away but kept her eyes open.

"Why? You do it to me too. Not to punish me, like Wilson, but to protect yourself, whether you're angry at something I've done, because I've hurt you, or because you're about to do something that you think I wouldn't agree with. You shut me out, take yourself away from me, leave me alone. Like tonight." She shrugged her shoulders. "It hurts as much as Wilson's punishments. More actually. Wilson was just my lover. You? You're my partner, my closest friend, my… whatever it is we're trying to be. Wilson on a good day, in our happier times, barely ever touched me outside of the bedroom. He wasn't inclined towards physicality. You, on the other hand? I don't think you even realize how many times you touch me throughout a day, whether it's a touch on my back while we walk, your hand on my arm or your fingers touching my hair. The first few weeks you were part of my life, I thought it was all part of your seduction repertoire and I tried to brush it off, to ignore it. Then, as we became friends, and later… this… I came to realize that most of those small touches during the day were not done purposefully but unconsciously, simply because you wanted to be close to me. When you shut me out, turn away, you take more than Wilson ever did. You take everything: partner, friend, almost lover, those touches."

He lay back and scrubbed his hands across his face, before sitting up, turning to face her, his eyes troubled.

"Laura, I…"

"Don't. Please." She spoke softly. "I'm not trying to hurt you. I just wanted you to understand. I made a mistake today, not telling you what happened. I didn't see it as a betrayal of your trust, although I can see now that it was. I did it because I wanted us to enjoy every minute of our time here together. But I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to open myself up to you, to let you even further in if it that means when you shut me out the hurt only runs deeper. I needed to be close to you tonight. I needed _us_ to be close. Not only because I'm off-balance because of the head injury and because I feel guilty for hiding it, but also because of what we shared out there tonight," a hand waved towards the back of the house " _Especially_ because of what we shared out there tonight. I needed to know it meant something to you, to us. Because it certainly did to me. I hurt you today, by keeping the fall a secret. Well, you hurt me too, intentional or not… maybe even more than I did you."

She stood before he could say anything and left the room. She returned to their empty bed, curled up tightly around the pillow she pulled into her arms, closing her eyes against the emptiness of the room, the loneliness that threatened to swallow her whole. For the first time that evening she was thankful the concussion made it nearly impossible to stay awake for very long. She closed her eyes, let herself drift, let the smell of him on the pillow comfort her – a poor substitute for the man himself, but clearly tonight it would have to do. _I was right. It was too easy to get used to sleeping his arms._

* * *

Remington stood at the door, hands in the pocket of his robe, simply watching Laura as she slept. Seeing her small form curled up, her arms wrapped around his pillow made his heart ache. _I didn't mean to wound her. Never that._

He was drawn to her. He crossed the room on silent feet, lay his robe at the end of the bed, and quietly slid in under the covers. He sidled his way across the mattress, closing the space between them, until he lay on his side facing her. His fingers swept her hair away from her face, over her shoulder, before his hand reached for one of hers, still clutching the pillow, and wrapped it in his own.

Even in her sleep she felt his presence surrounding her. When she felt his hand take hers, she gripped it tight in her own, having needed that contact since they'd arrived home. She opened her eyes, not realizing the vulnerability that shone in them until they met his, and she watched as remorse flitted across his face. She lay her free hand on the side of his face, thumb stroking his cheek, trying to soothe it away.

"I'm sorry…" she began, but was interrupted before she could complete the thought.

"We'll talk about it when you're feeling better. The apologies and explanations are mine to make for now."

"You don't need to…" she began, interrupted once more when a hand touched under her chin, a thumb brushed against her lips.

"Ah, but I do." His hand moved to caress the back of her neck, forehead bowed to touch her own. "How could you, even for a moment, not know what tonight meant to me?"

"I thought I did, but…" his lips glossed over hers, stealing the words, before his forehead reclaimed its position against her own.

"Have you no idea how I felt to at last touch you, to know you in a way I've only been able to dream of before? How it felt to hold you as your pleasure left you gasping and shaking in my arms? To have you need to touch me in the same way, to feel you touch me, take pleasure in it, to be held against your very essence as we found our release together? Ah, Laura, that you at last let yourself go, allowed yourself to be free with me, holding back not a single piece of yourself, it didn't simply mean _something_ to me…it meant everything."

She closed her eyes, exhaling deeply.

"To me, too." When an arm wrapped around her, she willingly tossed aside the pillow and moved to nestle herself against his chest, her hand sliding up under the back of his shirt, craving the feel of his bare skin underneath her fingertips. She shivered as the back of his fingers ran idly down the length of her back, remembering the feel of those hands touching her, making her body sing with ecstasy. She rubbed her check against his chest, frustrated as she felt silk instead hair and skin.

He followed her when she pushed herself up into a sitting position, giving her questioning look, wondering why she had suddenly put distance between them. Her fingers adroitly unbuttoned his pajama top, her hands parting it, then running up over his chest before sweeping it off his shoulders.

"Off with it." Mouth next to his ear, her command, and it was exactly that, was soft but firm, her breath against his ear tantalizing. Unable to resist, he brushed his lips against her neck, before pulling his arms from the sleeves and handing the top over to her.

"It occurs to me that had I known all I had to do to get you to undress me was to slip on a pajama top, I would have been wearing them to the office years ago." He reclined on his back again, his arm reaching to draw her to him, as she dodged his hand, laughing.

"I'm sure you would have, too. Don't think I didn't notice the moment you realized I found your chest undeniably attractive that the buttons on your shirts were suddenly left open on a regular basis." She slid to the side of the bed, then stood tentatively waiting on the floor to stop tilting.

"And here I thought you were blithely unaware of my little bit of chi… chicanery". He stumbled over the last word, mouth going a bit dry, as she stripped off her pajama top, and dropped it on the floor. She stood before him in full profile not in the least uncomfortable in her partial nudity. _Ah, a bit of the bold Laura once more. How I've longed to know her._

"How could I be unaware when you would all but smirk at me when you would catch me looking?" She pulled on his pajama top buttoning it from her breasts down, before reaching under the shirt and dragging down her pants, leaving them on the floor near her top.

"How could I but help find pleasure in watching you blush as wicked little thoughts danced through your mind?" He grinned at her playfully, as she climbed back up into the bed, stretching out on her side facing him.

"Don't be too smug, Mr. Steele. I've caught you on many occasion taking peeks of your own." She watched as his fingers nimbly began popping open buttons she'd just closed. "I, uh, think what you seem to have on your mind is counterproductive to the doctor's orders to limit physical activity."

"Relax, Laura. I've no intention of trying to seduce you tonight. I simply wish to enjoy your bare skin pressed against my own tonight, as last night." Remington unfastened the last button of the shirt, allowing it to fall open of its own accord, yet making no attempt to reach out and caress a breast as he longed to back of his fingers grazed her cheek, his gaze settling on her lips. As he leaned in for the kiss he watched her attempt, and fail, to conceal her wince of pain, drawing a frown from him. "Head hurting?"

"I'm fine," she hedged, then when his brows drew together, his frown deepening, confessed, "the headache's coming back."

Looking over his shoulder at the alarm clock, he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "I'll be right back." He left the room briefly, returning with a glass of water and two more Tylenol. Handing both to her, he waited until she'd taken the medication before putting the water on the bedside table then walking around the bed to climb back in. He lay on his back, drawing her into his arms as he settled in. Her hand automatically reached for his side and began to stroke it.

"Thank you, by the way." She yawned deeply then rubbed her head against him, getting comfortable, while bended knee came to rest on top of his thigh.

"For what?"

"For being here, with me. For not staying away."

"Our time together means as much to me as it does to you, Laura. Get some sleep."

He felt her nod her agreement against his chest. He lazily caressed her back until he felt as much as heard the soft sigh that indicated she'd given in to sleep. Picking up the hand that had stilled at his side, he tucked it into his own, drawing their joined hands up to rest on his chest. Closing his eyes, he let the feel of her breath against his chest lull him to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3: Priorities

Chapter 3: Priorities

Laura woke to the smell of bacon cooking and coffee brewing, and a pounding headache that made both meaningless at the moment. Her hand reached up to lay against her head, and she groaned audibly as she turned over in the bed. She opened her eyes cautiously, testing the effect of the sunlit room on the headache, relieved to find light did not intensify the pain. Her sight line focused on the glass of water and three pills lying on the bedside table, waiting for her in case she needed them. She said a silent prayer of thanksgiving for Mr. Steele's foresight, popping the pills into her mouth and washing them down with a greedy drink of water.

She pushed herself up to a sitting position and sucked in a deep, hissing breath as the headache escalated from painful to pulse pounding with the movement. She concentrated on ignoring the pain needing the restroom, a shower and a good teeth brushing, in that order. She stood up gingerly, relieved to find the floor was not tilting this morning at least and made her way to the dresser. Pulling out a sweater, jeans and a bra, she made her way to the bathroom. A hot shower did wonders for the tight muscles caused by the skiing and skating the day prior and blessedly helped take the edge off the headache as well. By the time she had dressed, brushed her teeth and pulled up her hair, the headache had diminished to a tolerable but annoying throb.

She made her way to the kitchen, then leaned against the door jamb smiling as she watched Remington. He'd pulled on an apron to protect his sweater and jeans against any accidental spills, though the man was nothing if not meticulously neat while at work in the kitchen. He was whistling a happy little tune, as he scooped omelets out of the pan in front of him and onto plates already crowded with bacon, fruit and fresh croissants. Two steaming cups of coffee were added to the tray, which he picked up and carried to the living room and placed on the table in front of the sofa. She laughed as he'd said not so much as a word to her when he'd passed, but once he'd dropped off the tray of food, returned, effectively trapping her against the wall between the two arms on which he leaned.

"Good morning, Miss Holt." Intense blue eyes pierced golden brown ones, her arms moved of their own accord to loop around his neck.

"Good morning, Mr. Steele." She watched his hips sway, as he moved slightly closer. Her tongue swept across her lips, moistening them in response to his movements.

"Glad to see you finally joined me. I was beginning to wonder if you planned to sleep the day away." A hand left the wall to trace a path down the side of her face, before lifting her hair over her shoulder, providing access to her neck.

"I'm here now. Are you going to wish me a proper good morning?" Her voice was husky, meaning clear as fingers threaded through his hair, chin tipped upward.

"I could, perhaps, be persuaded." A hand skimmed down his back, over his buttocks, then back upwards over his side, his blue eyes glazing at the touch. "Mmmm, I believe you've convinced me." Lips brushed, settled, pressed more firmly, the touch of tongue causing a hand to clasp the back of his neck, urging him deeper. He moved closer, then closer still, until an arm reached around her hips, pulling her tight against him, their bodies melding. They dared each other with their bodies, their mouths, their hands. She conceded the match, breaking her mouth away from his with a deep gasp, leaning back against the wall.

"That was some good morning," she commented, trying to catch her breath, then laughed at his self-satisfied smirk and the wag of his brow. She sidestepped him as he stepped forward, intent on going a second round. "Food. I'm starving."

"Ah, yes, must keep your strength up. Come on, then." His hand pressed against the small of her back as they walked over to the couch. She sat down on one end, propping her back against the arm before grabbing a plate, while he mimicked her on the other side of the couch.

"Have Jocelyn and Monroe left for the day?" She'd only just recognized the quiet of the house around them.

"Mmmmm. Long ago."

"You didn't give them a hard time last night, did you?" She watched him closely, saw he was considering his words carefully before replying.

"Never said so much as a word to Jocelyn." She nodded, waited for him to continue, frowned when he didn't.

"And Monroe?" she asked, her tone suspicious.

"Laid him out in the hospital waiting room." He shrugged his shoulders, continued eating.

"He was with you when it happened, you know. He would have only known about it second hand."

"Regardless of how he knew, Laura, he knew and kept it from me."

"Only because I asked Jocelyn not to say anything." She watched him pick up a piece of bacon, take a bite, his countenance darkening as he chewed. He sat up and set the plate calmly on the coffee table. She watched him expectantly. _Better to get this fight out of the way then sit around all day waiting for it to come._

"Are you sure you want to get into this right now, Laura?" His voice was tight, clearly his anger was already simmering once more.

"May as well," was her blithe response. She flinched, realizing her words and tone had taken him from anger straight to fury, as his skin literally flushed with the intensity of it.

"Have it your way, Miss Holt. I'd rather hoped we could at least make it through a pleasant breakfast. But since you insist, would you mind telling me what in the _bloody hell_ was going through your head to think it was okay to hide this from me?" He was shouting by the time he was finished.

"I was thinking I would be fine. That I wanted us to be able to enjoy our vacation, after years of trying to take one, only for something to always get in our way." She spoke calmly, trying to diffuse his anger.

" _Enjoy_ our _vacation_? Can't say I much enjoyed myself last night. To be all but making love with you out there," he swung his arm towards the backyard, "only to have you collapse, having no clue what was wrong, only knowing I couldn't get you to wake. Have you any idea what your little secret put me through? What the cost could have been should you have had a hemorrhage?"

"I'm sorry. You know I wouldn't have put you through that intentionally. I thought that I was okay. I knew how you'd react if I told you." _Count to ten, Laura. Don't let his anger ignite your own. He has the right to be angry. One...two...three..._

"How I'd react? What, that I would have taken care to make sure you were okay? That I'd not have given you glass after glass of wine? That I'd not have agreed to the hot tub? That I'd have insisted our... other activities...wait until we knew you were in the clear?"

"Yes," her voice rising, now taking on an edge of its own. "Exactly that. You would have hovered, coddled, would have tried your best to wrap me up in bubble wrap until our trip was over, just in case. Yes, damn it, exactly that. I thought I was fine!"

"You thought? _You thought?!_ Did you or did you not bounce your head off the ice?" He watched her chin rise stubbornly, as she refused to answer. "Did you?!" he repeated the question through clenched teeth.

She glared at him and crossed her arms in response but answered. "Yes, but..."

"Were you knocked unconscious when your head hit that ice?"

"Yes, but..."

"Did a medic have to bring you to?"

"Yes, but..."

"Did that same medic tell you that you likely had a concussion, recommend that you go 'round to the emergency ward?"

"Should I answer, or are you just going to cut me off again?"

"Funny how you always accuse me of hiding behind flippant remarks, Laura. Seems to me you give as good as you get. Did he or did he not tell you that you likely had a concussion and recommend you go round to the emergency ward?" He stood, began to pace the length of the room, trying to contain his anger.

"Yes." She said the word resentfully, refusing to look at him in her anger.

"Then again, I ask, what in the _bloody hell_ were you thinking keeping this from me?"

"I've already answered that and told you why."

"Because you thought, what? That I'd insist we sit out of some activities? Make certain you were okay?"

"Because you'd have been protective and overbearing."

"Protective and overbearing..." He shook his head, repeated the words, stunned they'd crossed her lips. "Why is it when you make me sit out when I've been injured it is 'caution' yet when I would insist on the same for you it is 'protective and overbearing?'"

"I've never sat you..."

"Convenient memory now, Laura? After Buckner's men got hold of me, you all but sent me home to bed while you and Mildred worked the investigation. After I was injured on the fence in London, you insisted that you be the one to go to the Earl to see if he was my father. When I broke my leg during the bachelor case, you made certain I stayed in bed while you went and chased down a murderer. Need I go on?"

Her anger deflated. Her hand reached up, rubbed at her brow. _Why am I fighting with him? I knew last night that he was right. I know now he was right. I shouldn't have hidden this from him. I wouldn't have stood for it, if he'd done the same to me._ The intensity of her headache had doubled from the arguing, from the escalation of her temper. Her fingers dropped from her brow, both hands moving to massage her temples as she closed her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I should have told you. I don't want to fight anymore. You're right." Her voice was strained as she spoke, but it was her willingness to accept responsibility so quickly that shocked him. He turned to look at her, saw her hands on her temples, the grimace on her face.

 _Damn. I should have known she was not up to this argument yet, not so quick on the heels of her collapse last night. I should have simply let her comments go, addressed this when she was in better health. Now look at her. Damn._

He walked over to the couch and took one hand from her temple, waited until she opened her eyes to look at him. "Let me," his voice was soft when he spoke, regretful. She stood at the slight pull on her hand, and watched as he positioned himself against the arm of the couch, before stretching out his legs. On a second tug of her hand, she climbed back on the couch, positioning herself between his legs, before letting her back and head lean against his chest. His fingers replaced hers at her temples, began to massage. They both were silent until he felt her take a deep breath, and letting it out, fully relaxed against him.

"I'm sorry. It was too soon for that, uh, conversation. I should have realized you weren't up for it yet." She shook her head against his chest, his fingers feeling her wince of pain at the effort.

"No, it's fine. It was going to happen sooner or later anyway. I'd rather get it out of the way now than have it between us all day."

Silence reigned between them again, this time comfortable, companionable, as he massaged her temples, eventually moving down to work the knots out of her shoulders as the headache began releasing its grip on her.

"For the record Laura, and this is the last I'll say on the matter, no vacation is worth risking your health. I'm not here to ski, I'm here to spend time with you. I don't care if that time is spent on the slopes or lying here on the couch with you watching the snow fall. I'll be just as happy either way."

"Does that include laying here with me while I take a nap?"

"It includes whatever you want."

She pushed herself up and moved to the end the couch. "Then scoot down and get comfortable."

He raised his brow at her, but did as she asked, shoving a pillow behind his head, lying on his back. Once he was settled, she stretched out next to him, wriggling around until her head was tucked below his chin in the center of his chest, and one leg slung across him. She lifted her head, her finger brushing across the cleft in his chin and kissed him before snuggling back down again.

"This is what I want, Mr. Steele," she told him on a yawn, her body growing heavy against his.

"What's that, Miss Holt?" he asked, his hand stroking her hair.

"Us. Like this."

"Happy then, are you?"

"Mmmm,"she murmured on a sigh as she drifted off. "It's perfect."

Once he was certain she was well and truly asleep, he reached for Agatha Christie's, _The Body in The Library_ , that he had laid there that morning. He'd predicted fairly accurately that they might be spending a good amount of time on the couch that afternoon, as she napped, healed, thus figuring some reading material might be the order of the day. He'd just flipped open the book when the words she had said as she drifted off reverberated in his head once more.

It's perfect. _I can't think of a more apt description of either the moment or where we are at last clearly headed._

He craned his neck forward, kissing the top of her head, before lying back again.

"Indeed it is, love, indeed it is."

* * *

Laura slept most of the day away. They wiled away her waking hours doing a crossword together, playing a game of chess at a table in front of the fire, and, much to her delight, watching _Gone with the Wind_ in the screening room. He kept meals simple and light throughout the day, a salad and noodle soup for lunch and lemon pepper chicken with tomato parsley rice for dinner. By ten that night she was fighting sleep once more and irritable. As she said, she was sick and tired of being sick and tired. It was only once she was soundly asleep that Remington had separated from her for the first time on the day, yet only long enough to shower and prepare for bed. Returning to her side, he'd spent the remainder of the evening finishing off the Christie book that he'd read periodically throughout the day as she had napped. Book complete, he'd turned off the bedroom lights and nestled in beside her before falling asleep as well.

Laura woke before dawn broke the sky on Sunday morning. Three things occurred to her within the first moments of awakening. Firstly, as she tentatively opened her eyes she found not a trace of the headache that had been plaguing her for nearly thirty-six hours. Secondly, her mind was fully aware, no longer hovering between wake and sleep as it had been over the last day. And, thirdly, a certain man had her spooned snuggly against him as he slept. Glancing down she found a hand belonging to that very man had claimed a breast as his own, as had been the case two mornings before. A wide grin graced her face. All-in-all it was not a bad way to start a new day, not a bad way at all.

Carefully extracting herself from his embrace, she slid from bed, then tucking the covers around him kissed him softly, smiling as he kissed her back even as he slept on. A shower, a blow dryer to her hair, a quick application of makeup and change of clothes later, she arrived in the kitchen. The coffee maker was just finishing off the last few drops of intoxicating brew when Monroe wandered in. Pulling a second cup from the cabinet, she filled it, and handed it to him without word. She could see the bruise on his left jaw where Remington's fist must have landed two nights before and cringed slightly, knowing it was due to her.

Taking a sip of her coffee, she raised the mug in the general direction of his face, pointing at the bruise. "I'm sorry, he shouldn't have hit you."

Monroe laughed deeply as he added cream to his coffee. "Of course he should have. I'd have done the same had positions been reversed. Truth be told, I was surprised that Mick didn't give me a more thorough thrashing for what I'd done."

" _You_ hadn't _done_ anything. It was my choice to hide it from him, not yours."

"It matters little where a secret originates, it matters only who keeps it. I chose to keep Jocelyn's council and thus yours. He'd a right to be angry with me for doing so. I bear him no ill-will. This is the not first time we've taken a swing at one another, would be surprised if it's the last."

"Mmmm," she acknowledged as she took another sip of coffee. "He told me how you met. Throwing punches over a woman, wasn't it?"

Monroe laughed. "Ah, yes, the bewitching Adana. I'd fancied that I'd found a woman as true as stars in the night skies. Then the night Mick appeared, I found she was nothing more than a temptress of the sea."

"Temptress of the sea?"

"Siren, sea nymph. In maritime mythology, the sirens used their beautiful song to lure men to their death. One look at Mick, and Adana began singing her song for him."

"And was he? Lured?" She asked the question with practiced nonchalance, looking at him over the rim of her cup as she took another drink.

Monroe laughed loudly. "Mick warned me about you. Appears he was quite correct in his assessment."

"How is that?"

"I believe the phrase he used was 'the most damnably curious woman' he's ever met in his life."

Laura grinned, shrugged a shoulder. "Nature of the business. So was he?"

"Lured? No, not Mick. His code of honor runs deep. He'd not allow himself to be tempted by a woman, even one as beautiful as my Adana, if she was otherwise preoccupied."

"There's an exception to every rule," she noted drily.

"You speak of Anna now." Monroe noted the look of surprise on her face, shock that he had so easily guessed to what she referred. He laughed warmly, then sobered. "Anna was not an exception, she was a deception. Mick had no idea the woman was married. His devastation at her death was as much about her lies and manipulations coming to light as it was for what he imagined he felt for the woman."

"How is that?"

"He'd unwittingly been forced to compromise a part of him to which he'd henceforth been true. He should have known then the truth of her. It was not until she rose like a Phoenix from the ashes of her grave that he realized that the woman was without a soul."

"You knew about that? About her coming back?" Setting the coffee cup on the counter, she lifted herself upon it to sit, before grabbing her mug again.

Monroe assessed Laura carefully as she did so, leaning his backside against the counter across from her, crossing his legs at the ankle, assessing how much he should tell her. Mick had shared the harm Anna had caused upon her return, and the devastation left in her wake. Perhaps, in sharing, he could reestablish the balance, making up for some of the harm done by the secret he'd kept from the man when the woman before him had been injured. He shrugged his shoulders. He was a gambler by nature, this was just another roll of the dice.

"Not when it occurred, no. It was some six months later, after I'd arrived in Los Angeles and he'd helped me set up shop. He called in a favor, asking that I provide a lad a job once he returned from probationary camp. Wanted to help the boy walk the straight and narrow upon his return. That night, we returned briefly to our old ways, imbibing far too much, reminiscing about days past. It was only when we were shockingly in our cups that the subject of the cunning Anna came up."

"I take it you were not a fan of Anna's?"

"I'd met the woman but once, knew her for what she was the moment she first spoke. I loathed the woman, as did every person that intersected with Mick's life with any type of longevity."

"Why? He loved her. One would think that his, ummm, associates would have been happy for him."

"Loved." Monroe uncharacteristically snorted. "No, not loved. Tied into knots would be the more accurate description of what he was. The woman was smart, I must give her credit for at least that. More so, she was cruel. We could only stand by, watch her identify his weaknesses, use them against him to bind him to her. She wanted only what no other woman before her had managed: to bring him to heel. Soon, even that was not enough. It was clear she would not let go of her grasp on him until she brought him to his knees...which, of course, is what hearing of her 'death,' learning of her lies, did."

"And that night in LA? I suppose he told you she tried to kill him?"

"He did not speak of Anna directly that evening, though it was clear by what he did not say that he'd at last recognized her for what she was. He spoke only of the grievous injury he'd caused someone in his life upon Anna's return... and the cost." He watched her flinch, then immediately conceal her response. "Hmmmm. It's as I assumed then, I see." His words earned him a frown from her, then a sigh.

 _Is there not a single person from his past that does not pick up immediately on the merest twitch?_ She decided there was no use in denying it. She watched him study her, kept her gaze on him, refusing to give so much as an inch, drawing another laugh from him.

"I see Mick was right there as well." He grinned at the roll of her eyes.

"Oh, what was he right about now?"

"You are stubborn, feisty."

"I am glad to hear Mr. Steele speaks of me in such a flattering light. Stubborn, feisty, damnably curious." Laura shoved herself down off the counter, moving to the coffee maker to refill her cup, before leaning her back against the counter, facing Monroe once more. She knew he was continuing to assess her, stamped down the urge to snap at him to stop. Instead she fixed an intentionally neutral look upon her face.

"I imagine Anna was not at all happy about your presence in his life."

This time it was Laura's turn to give an unladylike snort. "There you would be wrong. I wasn't so much a thought in either of their heads when she was here."

"I find I am inclined to disagree. She would have only had to take a single glance at the two of you together and know what I knew upon doing the same."

"Oh what, exactly, is that?" She was growing irritable. They'd spent too long on one of her least favorite topics - the time Anna had been in their lives - and knew it was at least in part her fault, as she kept asking questions. _Damnably curious. Okay, I'll have to give that to Mr. Steele._

"That you had succeeded where she had failed."

She gave her head a shake. "I'm sorry. You've lost me now."

"She would have known at a glance that it was you that had finally brought Mick to heel, not she, try as she might."

Her eyes flashed fire at the man. Had it been Remington upon which that look was leveled, he would have already been on guard, trying to decide between fight or flight, whatever would diffuse the situation the fastest. Monroe, however, was not Remington, and as such found himself square within her sites. Standing up from where she reclined against the counter, she walked briskly over to where Monroe stood until she was nose-to-nose with the man.

"Let me be clear with you, Monroe," her voice was clipped, angry, her finger poked towards him. "I have not now, nor have ever attempted to bring Mr. Steele, 'to heel'. It is our differences that make us the successful partners that we are. We challenge each other, push each other, argue with one another, find fault with one another's logic and at times, infuriate one another. I do not need, nor want, a compliant Mr. Steele. I am not Anna and I resent that you would even imply that I am."

Monroe found himself leaning decidedly backwards across the counter, avoiding the finger that had been poked towards him several times as she laid into him. Despite her anger, he could not help but admire the fire in her eyes, the flush across her skin and the honesty with which she spoke. _I can see why you fell for her, my friend. Each time I interact with her, she is more captivating._ Now, he held up his hands, in surrender.

"Poor choice of words, I assure you. Perhaps you'll allow me to try again?" Laura spun away from him, picked up her cup of coffee off the counter, then turned to face him.

"I'd choose my words very carefully, if I were you. Mr. Steele is not the only one that knows how to throw a punch around here."

He nearly laughed at the statement, he found it so amusing, but wisely recognized she might carry through on that threat if he did. Instead, he carefully evaluated his choice of words before he spoke again.

"Anna would have seen that he had chosen to wisely align his loyalty and his life with you. In part because of that marvelous display from you I saw a moment ago, I suspect."

"Better choice of words, but cut the charm. It doesn't get Mr. Steele out of hot water and it won't you either." She laughed when she saw the corner of his mouth quirk up to smile, then straighten back out at her warning. "Okay, so maybe it will help you get out of trouble. Now what did you mean by 'the cost'?"

"I've never seen Mick turned inside out by a woman before and he was certainly that over you. That's all I will say on the matter. There are things said between friends that must stay that way."

Laura gave her head a quick nod.

"I can understand that...and respect it." She glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. It was nearly six-thirty. "What time are you and Jocelyn leaving for the slopes."

"A couple we made the acquaintance of yesterday will be here in thirty-minutes or so to pick us up. Jocelyn and I thought you and Mick might want to make use of the truck today, if you were feeling up to it."

She walked over to Monroe, placing a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you. I am going a bit stir crazy after yesterday. Maybe I can lure Mr. Steele into town with me. And, speaking of which, I think I am going to go see if I can go convince him to make me breakfast. You and Jocelyn have fun today."

"We'll do our utmost, I assure you."

Monroe's eyes followed Laura as she left the kitchen, a bit envious of his longtime friend. The woman clearly respected Mick, challenged him, was intensely loyal to him. _You're lucky you found her first, Mick, otherwise I might have had to try to win her heart as well._

Instead of waking Remington immediately as planned she pulled on the coat he'd given her three nights before and wandered outside. The conversation with Monroe had been unsettling, bringing up memories that she'd long ago tried to put aside. Granted, every now and then, something would happen that would remind her of the time Anna had been in their lives. _Like when he left me in both body and mind the night before last when he'd found out I'd kept my injury from him._ For the most part, however, she never gave the other woman a thought at all.

She wandered down the pathway to the hot tub, sat on a lounge nearby and allowed her thoughts to carry on. When the tall, leggy, glamorous blonde had entered their lives nearly two years before, she'd allowed herself to be intimidated. _How could I not? She was just like the long string of women he brought around those first days, heck, just like Felicia. Buxom, legs for days, hair always perfect, always dressed as though they are ready to walk the runway. Far more his type than I ever was. As Felicia once pointed out...who would have ever thought that I would be his type? Certainly not I. Yet... here we are, how many years later now?_

Yet, had it only been that Anna was Remington's classic type, she would have been fine. Of course, there was no "only" about it. The night he'd come to the loft to speak, after he left her sitting alone and humiliated at the table at Club Ten, it had been clear to her that he'd once cared very deeply for the woman, perhaps even loved her. In her mind, that he still loved Anna - yes, loved as she'd come to accept - was clear when in a matter of hours, she had become all but invisible to him.

During the Glee Club tour, she'd finally taken a moment to be completely honest with herself. The only positive that had come from Anna's appearance in their lives, was that she had finally realized her partner was capable of deep and abiding emotion for a woman. That it had not been her, even after all the time they had been together, even after all the time they had spent exploring their relationship over the year prior, had stung. Very true. Yet still, that the capability was there at all had given rise to hope.

Until, of course, she'd ended their relationship a few scant days later.

But still...

Monroe's words continued to repeat themselves in her memory: "twisted him into knots," "cruel," "exploited his weaknesses to bind him to her." The idea that anyone had used his gentle heart, his craving for intimacy, his need to be needed in order to toy with, to harm her Mr. Steele, made her simultaneously ache for him while fury boiled in her blood. _I saw what she was capable of when she was here: manipulating that cowboy into hitting her, turning Merleau and Mr. Steele on each other, killing Merleau in cold blood, turning that gun on Mr. Steele. How had it never occurred to me that she had used him in the same manner while they were together?_

She'd known when she ended their personal relationship in Cannes that she had wounded him deeply. She'd seen it on the yacht when she'd made it a point to get a little, ummm, too into distracting Smith, with the purpose of wounding him in retaliation for Joelle; she'd seen it when he'd told her he was worried and had pulled her into a desperate kiss; she's seen it at the balustrade when she told him their personal relationship was over. Two fingers moved to rub along either side of the bridge of her nose.

 _Two nights ago I told him that when he removes himself from me because he is hurt or angry, he takes everything: partner, friend, almost lover. Just the half hour that he'd removed himself from me that night had hurt, deeply. When he had done it with Anna for two days, it was devastating. Yet for three months after Cannes he'd had to deal with the 'cost,' as Monroe put it, and had been 'turned inside out'. It never even occurred to me what he was going through. Okay, that's a lie. I saw it in his eyes - the hurt, the loss - all the time. I just chose to ignore it, to focus on what my decision had cost me. And four months later, I did it all over again, except this time I made certain to take it all, leaving not even the business relationship behind._

Laura turned, looking back at the bedroom where Remington still slept. Two nights before, it had only taken him knowing that his distance was hurting her for him to return to her side. Yet, she'd allowed his hurt to go on for months and still he'd come back willingly to her, the moment she'd open the door to him. _It's time you start realizing what a gift that man in there is, Holt. And there's no time like the present._

Returning to their room, she went directly to the bathroom to change, reemerging in his shirt that she'd slept in the night before. He'd shifted to his back while she was gone. She slid into the bed, then moved over until she could tuck herself into his side, her hand automatically moving to his side to stroke there. He flinched against her touch.

"Your hand is like ice, Laura," he mumbled.

"I was outside," she told him by way of explanation.

Turning his head, he opened one eye and peeked at the alarm clock, then turned back, awakening now, and frowning at her.

"It's barely seven o'clock. What in the blazes were you doing outside at this time of the morning?" Taking her hand in both of his, he began to rub warmth into it.

"Thinking."

"Couldn't you have thought inside, where it's warm at least?"

She ignored his question. She'd decided while she was changing that it was time for them to have an open and frank discussion on a topic of some importance. She was nervous and didn't want him getting mired down on the details of where she'd chosen to go and think, otherwise she might lose the courage to bring up the subject.

"I need to talk to you. It's important." The tension in her voice roused him the rest of the way from sleep, and dropping her hand, he pushed himself up on an elbow to look at her.

"It is your head? Is it worse?" She shook her head emphatically in reply.

"My head's fine. Maybe more clear than it's been in a long time." With a sigh of relief, he reclined on his back again after shoving a pillow behind his head. Laura flipped herself around to where her head was resting against his stomach. Grabbing his hand, she began tracing his palm with her fingers.

"What's on your mind, Laura?" The fingers of his free hand began playing with her hair.

"I don't want to make the same mistake I did in Cannes, and just assume that we are on the same page. Unless I'm wrong, I think we both know with the way things are going, that, sooner than later, we are going to be turning that corner." When his hand stilled in her hair she had to resist the urge to laugh.

"Now I'm the one that doesn't want to make any assumptions. Are you saying you're ready to consummate this relationship?"

"In a way, yes. Not today, but soon enough that I think we need to discuss our preferences for birth control. I know what I'd prefer, and that will take some time."

"Which is?" His fingers resumed their explorations of her hair.

Lacing her fingers with his, she let their joined hands drop to her stomach and turned her head to look at him. "That we both get checked out, make sure everything is clear, and, if so, I go on the pill."

"I don't mind taking responsibility for that side of things, always have in the past, without fail. I'd want whatever what makes you most comfortable." He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear as he spoke.

"I meant what I said the other night. I want to know all of you. I don't want any, um, barriers between us." She watched as his eyes almost crossed at the thought. Seeing her watching him, clearly amused, a flush spread up his skin. Laura sat up quickly and turned to face him. "You're blushing!" she laughed with delight. "Who'd have thought that the unflappable Mr. Steele would be set off kilter talking about sex?" She shrieked with mirth when his hands grabbed her and flipped her on her back, settling on top of her, all in one movement.

"A man does not _blush_ , Miss Holt." He pretended to frown in consternation at her, but the smile quirking at the corners of his mouth belied his attempt to appear put out.

"Oh, then what do you call that red tint that just climbed up your face?"

"Hmmm, a mantle of discomfiture?" He lifted a brow to her.

"Nice try..." she giggled.

"A cloak of disquietude?" A wag of both brows accompanied this suggestion.

"Not buying," she sing-songed. She sombered as she saw him grow serious, his hands moving to either side of her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks.

"Are you sure, Laura?" His voice was quiet, his eyes searching her own. Her fingers found his hair, toyed with it absently.

"Yes." She answered him simply, without a single inflection of a question. If asked, she would have sworn he stopped breathing the moment he heard her answer.

"How long?"

"Until I'm protected?"

"Yes."

"I'm not an expert on the subject. I've only been on the pill once, shortly before... shortly after DesCoines came into our lives for the second time. Then Dr. Miller recommended that I complete a full course before, ummm, engaging. Granted, he tends to be on the cautious side, but I'd rather be cautious then surprised."

"So a month from the time you take the first pill?"

"Essentially, barring any complications, yes."

"And once you are protected?"

"Then when we both agree the time is right, we move forward." Hearing her words, he exhaled deeply, then dipped his head until his forehead rested against her own. She laughed softly, rubbed her fingers briskly against his scalp. "You act as though you just got a reprieve from the death penalty," she teased.

He lifted his head and smiled at her. "Funny, because I feel as though you've just given me everything I've ever wanted." Brushing his lips across hers, he rolled them both over until she was laying on top of him. He palmed the back of her head, bringing her lips back down against his. "Kiss me." He murmured the words against her lips, felt her smile, before her lips began moving across his, nuzzling, before becoming more demanding. Teeth nipped a lip playfully, a tongue touched demandingly, then searched for his own when he opened to her willingly. Pressing a hand against the back of her head once more, he rolled them over, until he claimed his place atop her again, exploring her mouth, tasting her with a quiet fervor. The kiss ended only when their need for air became greater than their need for contact.

"And until then?" He asked the question on a gasp of air.

"We continue..." Her mouth grazed his neck, punctuating her words "...on as..." he groaned as her mouth found his earlobe "we have been."

"As in before Vail..." He pulled his neck away from her seeking mouth, burrowing his whiskered face into her neck, nuzzling until she groaned deep in her throat, "...or since?" his tongue lathed the bruise in the crook of her shoulder.

"Both, wherever the mood takes us." She gasped when his lips found the hollow of her throat.

His lips claimed hers hungrily, the kiss deep, bordering on urgent as a hand found a breast, a thumb a nipple and brushed against it. Her back arched, fingers sinking into his bare shoulders, her hips grinding against his arousal, drawing need filled moans from both of them. His mouth left hers, found the underside of her jaw. "Where's the mood taking us now?" He rubbed his whiskers against her, then began to suckle the skin there, his fingers plucking at her nipple.

"Where do you think?" She asked on an exhale, while pulling her head from his, and dropping it to his shoulder, her lips, teeth, tongue, grazing across it.

"I want to hear you say it." He was teasing her, she knew, but she was growing impatient, needing to feel his hands against her bare skin. His hips circled, his arousal rubbing against her mound, upping the ante. Her hands grabbed at his buttocks, pulling him tighter against her.

"Touch me." It wasn't a request but a demand. His hands moved eagerly to the buttons of her shirt.

As the doorbell began to peel in the living room.

"Ignore it," she ground out, then with a shove at his shoulders, they flipped over, and she straddled him, her fingers moving to undo the remaining buttons as the doorbell rang again. As her fingers reached the last button, it suddenly dawned on her, what day it was and who was likely at the door.

Laura launched herself off of him, his groan of frustration audible, as he shoved himself up on an elbow, watching her head towards the bedroom door.

"Put on your robe and grab mine," she called behind her as she shot through the doorway. "I have to get the door before they leave."

He flopped back on the bed, a hand brushing through his hair in frustration, before he pushed himself up and out of the bed. Throwing on his robe, as directed, he grabbed hers off a hook on the bathroom door and followed in her wake towards the front door. Arriving, Remington found the foyer empty and the front door standing open.

"Laura!" He called out. Receiving no answer in reply, he crossed the deck, and descending it, resisted the urge to hop around as the snow covered his bare feet. _Well, on the upside, there's no need for a cold shower now._

Turning the corner of the house towards the garages, he found Laura dressed only in his shirt, signing a piece a paper as the twenty-ish year old delivery man stood, none too subtly, taking in the view presented by the cold air combined with the silk shirt she was wearing. Remington glowered at the young man, who quickly turned away taking great interest in making sure the tailgate to his pickup was secure. He held her robe up as Laura threaded her arms through the sleeves, before cinching it around her waist.

"Laura, it can't be any more than 20 degrees out here. What are you thinking coming out here wearing only a shirt, in front of a delivery man no less?" He continued to glower towards the truck and the young man inside until it was out of site. Placing his hand on the small of Laura's back, he nudged her towards the house. His persistent partner had other ideas, however, and spun to face him, beaming. He raised a brow at her in question.

"Do you remember the promise I made to you on Christmas morning, when the Santas were holding us hostage?"

 _As though I could forget. Up until that moment, I don't think I've loved her more._

* * *

 _ **"...One flexible flyer coming up..."**_

* * *

He could still hear the words, as though she had just said them.

 _"_ Of course. But what has that to do with you standing out here trying to catch your death of cold while a delivery boy ogles you?"

"I always keep my promises, Mr. Steele." She pointed to an area behind him. He slowly turned around, suspecting what he would see, even before he saw it. Leaning against one of the garage bays was a tandem Flexible Flyer with a large red bow wrapped around it. Laura wrapped her arms around him from behind, pressing her cheek against his back. He remained still for so long, that she began to worry. She dropped her arms from around him, took a step back.

"You don't like it. I guess it really is kind of silly, giving a grown man a sled." His hand reached behind him, grabbing hers, and giving her a tug.

"Come here, Laura." Laura moved around him, then turned to face him. Before she could look up, his hands found both sides of her face, lifting it, his lips claiming hers in several kisses, so tender they left her breathless and dazed. "I think this is the nicest thing that anyone has ever done for me." He pulled her into his arms hugging her tight against his body. "What am I going to do with you?" Wrapping her arms around him, she hugged him as tight as she could, before releasing her grip, and leaning back to look up at him.

"I have an idea if you are truly at a loss for one." His mouth lifted in a devilish grin and he wagged his brows at her, wringing a laugh from her.

"What exactly do you have in mind, Miss Holt?" He dipped his head down, running his lips across her neck, as a hand brushed over her breast, sending delightful shivers down her body. She stepped closer to him, then lay her mouth next to his ear.

"Feed me," she whispered. He stilled momentarily and then broke out into laughter.

"Only you, Laura, only you. Come along then. Let's get inside and see what I can do." He grabbed her by the hand, and together they went back inside.

Over a breakfast of crepes and fresh fruit, they'd argued about the sled.

"You heard the doctor, Laura. He clearly said no strenuous exercise for at least two weeks."

"I'll be sitting on it, not pulling it, Mr. Steele," she'd pointed out drily.

She'd won the battle of wills and they spent an enjoyable morning together outside, sledding, tossing snow at one another and, whenever he was able to get his hands on her, kissing under the light snowfall. He'd mocked her idea to make snow angels, until he found out how delightful the process could be, when a woman was lying on top of him, showing the movements that created the images. They only adjourned to the house when they could no longer feel their fingers or toes due to the cold, and both of their bodies demanded nourishment after an active day outside.

After changing, they'd gone to town, where they'd eaten tasty fare at a trendy café. Following much cajoling by Remington, after lunch Laura found herself sitting next to him in a horse drawn sleigh, a concept that she believed was nothing more than an over romanticized cab ride in the open and freezing air. She'd discovered how invigorating an experience it was, especially when the man burrowed under the blankets with you was bound and determined to stir up all types of delicious responses to his stealthy touches underneath said blankets.

Both couples stayed in that evening, choosing to forgo the dinner that had been planned at a romantic restaurant tucked into the side of the mountain. Instead, Remington whipped up a delicious meal comprised of rack of lamb and rosemary roasted potatoes, followed by a chocolate mousse for dessert, the dessert expressly chosen so that he could enjoy, as always, Laura's love affair with the treat. After dinner, the couples had engaged in a spirited evening of pool and darts, before both couples retired for the evening. For Laura and Remington, this meant one last frolic in the hot tub, where hands and mouths explored, and stimulated, and drove one another over the precipice of desire on multiple occasions. Only when their bodies were fully sated did they, climb into bed and fall asleep, wrapped tightly in one another's arms.

The next morning, Remington pointed the Silverado away from the Gallen home and towards Vail Village where he and Laura arranged shipment of his Flexible Flyer back to LA. The drive to the airport was without the frequent starts and stops of LA traffic, and they arrived well prior to their flight's departure time allowing them to eat breakfast at one of the airport's restaurants before boarding. Once they arrived back in LA, the couples separated as Monroe had left his car in long term parking, allowing he and Jocelyn continue on their way home alone. Fred, as always, was waiting patiently in the passenger pick-up area for Laura and Remington, and within an hour of picking the couple up, their trusty chauffeur had dropped them off at the Rossmore.

Much to both of their regret, Laura insisted upon going home. Nero had been left to his own devices for nearly five days, and she was anxious to check on him, needing to be certain the teen from her building that she'd hired to pet sit had done right by her beloved cat. Left to their own devices in their separate homes, they each worried that the other would back away now that they were back in LA, back to their daily lives.

At Remington's the television was on and one of his favorite movies, _White Heat_ (James Cagney, Virginia Mayo, Warner Bros, 1949), was playing out on the screen before him, but he'd found himself unable to concentrate on the movie as his mind wandered again and again to Laura. Across town, Laura was not faring much better, and finally in frustration tossed down the novel she was trying, without success, to read. She'd been unable to focus, as her thoughts were constantly distracted by the images of what she and Remington would be doing at this moment if they were still in Vail. She finally gave up, and after shutting off all the lights in the loft, went upstairs and climbed into bed, where she lay looking up at the ceiling.

The phone rang in Remington's apartment shortly before eleven. With a sigh, he stood up and walked over to the table to on the wall to answer it.

"Steele here."

"I miss you." The sound of her voice made his heart beat faster, while her words were a salve to his battered nerves. He exhaled deeply, as the tension that had built in this body throughout the evening left.

"I miss you, too." On the other side of the line, Laura closed her eyes in relief. His words wrapped a cloak of comfort around her.

"I was wondering if you might want to stay at the loft tonight." _There, I made the offer, now it's up to him. Please say yes._

"There is no place else I'd rather be, Laura. I'll be there within the half hour." _I don't think I'd have been able to sleep a wink tonight without you next to me._

 _"_ Oh, and Mr. Steele?"

"Yes, Miss Holt?"

"Don't forget my pajama top."

"I wouldn't dare. I'll see you shortly."

Hanging up the phone he tossed a pair of pajamas and his shave kit into an overnight bag, and after grabbing a suit from the closet, walked out the front door of the apartment, locking it behind him. Twenty minutes later Laura opened the loft door for him, and thirty minutes after that, they were wrapped around each other sound asleep.

Life back in LA was looking good...very good indeed.


End file.
